


Inhale

by Melissaaawr



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2018-12-18 08:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11870565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melissaaawr/pseuds/Melissaaawr
Summary: I had never spoken much, never had much to say.And the words were still caught in my throat, burning.But my name had escaped his, danced past his lips."Elenia Volute."______________________________Drownverb1.To die through submersion in and inhalation of water.





	1. Home

Although a barbaric idea, the annual Hunger Games had a very simple format. To show that we were forever under the power of the Capitol, from each of the Twelve Districts a sacrifice would be made. Although they packaged it a little better than that. We had two ‘tributes’ between the ages of twelve and eighteen who would enter an engineered environment where everything from the weather to the wildlife could be controlled and they would fight the others until there was only one left.

This person would become a Victor, rich, famous, wanted and lusted after.

Every year twenty three children had to die to make the point that we were powerless. It kept the Districts quiet, it kept them stuck in their ways and life style. This year had been the seventy-fourth edition of the monstrous games and this year two Victors had been crowned. It was completely unheard of.

There had been issues along the way of course, some games lasted too long and there had to be some large finale to trigger those final deaths. One year a boy went so mad he literally ate the corpses of those he had killed. Sometimes there were accidents, a flood set off that game makers lost control of, drowning the majority of the tributes within an hour.

Boring games were never good, there had to be the right mix of death, desperation and betrayal. I suppose five years ago I had given them that. But I had stuck to the rules.

The desperate love struck teenagers from Twelve had not. And they would pay for it.

They were going to start something no-one could control.

___

I hadn’t emerged from my home until the early hours of the third day. That was becoming routine, the usual. I needed the first two days, those long forty eight hours to comprehend everything, to breathe now my every move wasn't being scrutinized. I felt little better but I’d seen no real reason to venture outside until now.

The pool was close to empty thanks to the retreating tide, although the wind danced over the top of the water, leaving swirls and shapes that lingered only a few seconds. I heard the gentle click of his door some way behind me, the night being so quiet, but I didn’t move. I just continued watching those patterns, mimicking them with bare feet. He stifled a yawn snd I felt that usual stab of envy at his ease. “Okay?" He swung himself beside me, glancing quickly. I ignored it, his own legs were bare, and his toes came much closer to the water than mine did.

“What’s wrong?”

My fingers connect, interlocking. I squeezed tight until it hurt before I answered. “Luine just called me...” I released my hands, one lifting to brush hair from my face, “Well, earlier on...she said...” I was surprised at the lump that seemed to be appearing in my throat, “Crane’s dead. Or at least it seems like it.” My voice faded out and I waited for his own to lift; to rise but for once he was as silent as me. “That will be because they both lived won’t it?” I drag my body around, ignoring the way splinters in the wood caught on my thighs, “Because they...” I struggle for the words, “They showed them up, showed Snow up. They tricked the system, didn’t they?”

Even as I rambled he remained quiet, lips gently pursed. I suddenly realised my palms were sweaty and wiped them on my shorts, “So, if Crane died for it. I mean he let it happen...and for now everyone loves them, but can it...can they?” He lifted up tanned hands to rub over his eyes and irritation ignited in my stomach. “Finnick!” I’d barely lifted my voice but the urgency in it made him finally respond.

“They’re alive for now. They can’t risk anything public, not with how much they adore her...them.”

“That’s if people brought it.” I was relishing the chance for a real conversation, away from the fear or being overheard by someone dangerous. “If, being the prime word.” He mused, again smothering a yawn, “But the people in the Capitol did, and I know a lot of them here...” I scoffed a tiny bit, for anyone to fall for their ‘love story’ seemed ridiculous. She had sensed the advantage of him and used it and used it well.

Instead of one victor this year the Hunger Games had crowned two.

That was the fact Seneca Crane had died for. That had to be the fact they eventually would suffer for. This would not be let go, she, the hard looking girl from the poorest district, had made fools of them threatening to kill herself like that. They had presumed two victors were better than none.

I was sure they would regret that immensely.

“Do you know how they killed him?” My eyes dragged back to him again, the silence had stretched long enough for me to assume the conversation as over, “Crane.” He continued, although I could tell he didn’t want an answer. “From what I can gather, it was just in Snow’s mansion. Ironic really,” The little smirk that graced his lips made the lump in my throat appear again, bigger this time, so large I swore I could choke on it. “They made him eat those berries. Whatever they were,” He waved them away as if the words were wisps of cloud, “The same ones he stopped those Katniss and Peeta eating.”

I swallowed several times before I felt I could reply, “And how do you know that?”

“Someone thought it would interest me.”

“I’m sure they did.” The bitterness dripping through my words was evident but he gave no signs of being bothered by it. Instead he waited until I had stood, letting his fingers wrap around my wrist. “I would have told you earlier. I just knew you would want to be left alone and to be honest...” His eyes scanned over my face, “I never imagined you would care enough to be upset about him.”

“I’m not upset.” I lied weakly. I was upset and I didn’t need the scorn in his voice to realise that was something wrong with that. “Not really. I’m just...” My body seemed to deflate, “I don’t know Finnick. I just...”

This time the look he gave me hurt, it made me feel like I could shrink inside myself tenfold. “I didn’t ask you to meet me for you to be cruel.”

“Obviously not.” He pushed himself up with that, “And I’m not.” His tongue darted over his top lip in that way that sent women in the Capitol to their knees. Sometimes it was difficult to pretend it didn’t have a similar effect on me, but this occasion wasn’t one of them. I was angry at him, which was very odd in itself, angry that he could dismiss my feelings so easily and make me feel like I didn’t deserve them.

He had a point, that was clear. I knew he had a point about Crane. I was just unsure how I was supposed to act after someone I had known for several years had been murdered for an idea I had helped put in his head. “Stop looking like that.” I stopped myself snapping back and just shrugged, watching as he playfully rolled his eyes and letting him tug me into a soft hug, moulding against his body. “I don’t know what will happen with any of it. But there is no point worrying now. It’s done...”

“It’s never done.” I murmured pitifully and he drew back, examining me in that way that made me hold my breath. “For now it is. And you should get some sleep; I can’t imagine you’ve had a lot since we’ve been back.”

“You look tired too.” His smile was more genuine, and it was without the flash of white teeth I was used to. “I am.” He let me go completely, left hand dragging over my shoulder and collar bone as he moved a curl out of the way. He sighed a little, “We’re due to see the families tomorrow. Up at the Justice Hall.”

My stomach tightened and I could feel the acid lifting in my throat. “Already?” He nodded sympathetically but it didn’t loosen the sense of dread. It was almost worse, in a way, then actually watching the child die. Having to meet their grieving family, try and express your sorrow, how bad you felt, how hard you had tried. I never felt like I tried hard enough, I had always had a difficult time just speaking once we were in that situation. If I was plagued by nightmares and memories how was I supposed to help them go through the same thing?

I was too weak to pull myself out of my own horrors.

I let Finnick drag me home gently, his hand rougher than my own. I bid him goodnight although it was far closer to dawn than dusk and he left with another closed mouth smile.


	2. Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A difficult night at home.

I cocoon myself with a thick fur blanket on my couch, staring blankly at the projection which was still celebrating the games. It was yet another program exploring the victors relationship, the highlights from before and during the arena. I just saw nothing in her face, no glimmer of real emotion at any point. Maybe it was because I knew what Haymitch wanted, what warranted a gift for them. Maybe it was because I found it easy to put myself in Katniss' shoes and see what the best plan of action to stay alive was, the best deception.

That was exactly what I had done before.

But there was no way she would get away with it. Maybe they would stage it as an accident, have a public mourning, a funeral. Killing her could make her into something more than she was, just a fairly clever sixteen year old who knew how to shoot an bow. I tried to wipe it from my mind, sinking deeper into the fabric. I hated being alone more than ever right now, although often it was by choice.

I could call someone; that was an option. But then who would I disturb? My brothers worked long hours and as much as they tried they could never understand. My mother was a lost cause. I had people I still counted as friends, in some form or another but it was all foreign to them. There was no-one I trusted other than the old woman, half senile in the house opposite and Finnick. A year or so again that thought had depressed me more than anything. Now I felt grateful I at least had that.

I watched the girl from Eleven, little Rue, die again. That had been the only time Katniss Everdeen had seemed human before she had found Peeta. Before Haymitch had come up with his genius idea and begged me to intervene with Seneca.

I stretched for my glass of water, sweetened the flavour of orange with some syrup I brought home with me from the Capitol each year. The swell in my throat returned. The program finished and another started, I glared hard at Ceasar's face. I didn’t know when the man slept, other than during his many surgeries to keep that strange sense of youth on his face. He was smiling again now, that shark like grin that never reached his eyes, his hair and lip still bore the signature colour of the seventy fourth games as he chatted on. I got the sense of the show, it was each tribute, from chariot to death.

You would think now the bloodbath was over people would want to move on, but that was never the case. The citizens of the Capitol made the games into a whole summer long event. There was the build-up, the sneak peeks only for them of possible arena ideas. And then there was the betting, the parties in the style of past games, past victors, before you even got to the games themselves. Around now people would be collecting any winnings, giggling over dinner about their favourite moments, taunting those who said someone else would be victorious. And this year, with the element of a love story, they would still be feverish and no doubt the arena tours had already started.

I always got to leave after the final ceremony, regardless of who had wanted me to stay. It was the only thing I had ever felt confident saying no to Seneca about. But then he never threatened anything, although he had to know threats were still the basis for everything. He wasn’t that naive. I had been served on a platter built with the possibility of my families death. I would have done anything. I would still do anything.

Seneca wasn’t like that I had thought he would be, not how Finnick described with many of his. I'd been so scared, and even though I now know without a doubt that Finnick had done all he could it was not enough. A Victor deemed desirable could be brought. I would never have thought of myself as being so but shortly after my victory tour news came that I was up for grabs. President Snow was auctioning off my virginity. I was a prize to be sold to the highest bidder.

It could have been far worse than Seneca Crane. There was some sad comfort in that. It still made me feel sick, remembering how I had felt, our district escort coming to take me, just me, back to the Capitol. I dont allow myself to think about this either. Crane was dead and all I could do was hope I hadn’t taken anyone else's fancy. Acid stings my throat and I push myself upwards, almost slipping as I free myself from the blanket.

The room was still warm, we had very hot summers here, being so far south and usually I relished it but now it was irritating and I was already overheated from the flurry of emotions. I snatch up my drink, finishing it in one large gulp before slamming it down a little too hard, watching a thick crack shoot up one side of the glass.

I ran my finger very gently over it, feeling the jagged wrinkles before I grabbed it, suddenly angry again and threw it into the woven bin, watching the glass shatter this time and spread across the wooden flooring. Diamonds in the weak light. I had enough diamonds and gems and stupid pretty little things.

I wasn’t sure what I could do with them now,. I turn off the screen so I can think. I’d never worn any of them at home as it was. They were all gifts from someone who wasn’t there now. Wearing them would be bad if he had died how Finnick claimed. Seneca had betrayed President Snow. Of course he had suffered.

If I was seen with them it would be seen as a smite towards the Capitol, an unnecessary risk. Besides, I couldn’t imagine wanting to wear them again, not with the memories, especially not with the look they had always drawn from Finnick.

I decided to have a dig around, make a collection of everything Seneca had given to me. I could decide what to do with them when it was light, but for now it would be a distraction.

It had happened to be one that unexpectedly ended with me weeping in my spare bedroom surrounded by jewellery and silly little trinkets.

I wasn’t just crying for Seneca. That dawned on me slowly as the skies finally began to bleed orange. A part of me was, for him as a person, the person I felt I’d had glimmers of that others never had. But I was crying for myself, for the uncertainty, for the knowledge the next one, whoever it may be would be worse.

Finally, as I should have been already, I was crying for the children sent to die. The two I had failed, Tali and Shim. I’d let them down, they were both dead. Tali has suffered horribly, her screams as the tracker jackers stung her had kept me awake all that night. I hadn’t cried then, not in the Capitol. I should have. They deserved more than the end they had, they deserved better than me.

A gull swept past the window, cracked open to let in an endless supply of fresh air. It let out a cry and I sobbed with it.  
___  
The layout of his house is a little different to mine. He has an extra bedroom where I have a wardrobe that could double as one. His kitchen is smaller, but the master bedroom, where he sleeps has the most amazing window. I think if I hadn’t chosen my home I would have wanted his. They all varied a little, the houses of the Victors Village, but then Four was like that. Nothing was the same, it didn't seem like there had been any set plan for construction. It was one thing I loved about the district, it didn’t match but it just worked.

I didn’t knock when I entered, and I hadn’t even slipped anything over my short nightdress, creeping out in the weak light. It wasn’t quite a habit but it was something we had both done occasionally, when things became too hard as they often did in the evening and at night time. But I wasn’t here just for comfort. I felt like I had to explain myself. I slipped into his room, not sure how to expect him but not surprised that he was fast asleep, the thin sheet twisted and caught around his body.

I debated leaving. I’d wanted him to be awake so we could speak, so that he could understand what I meant and make any lingering feeling from our talk earlier dissipate. I whisper his name gently but it has no effect and I half spin on my toes, there was only a couple of hours before I would have to rise as it was, and I wanted to look somewhat together to meet Tali and Shim’s families. I owed them that much. Or perhaps it was just another layer of deception, pretending I was fine so that they had just to assume it wasn’t our fault.

“You know that feeling when you're being watched?.” My heart splutters and I see the corners of his lips lift before his eyes open. “Sorry.” I breathed the word easily, and with another wide yawn he patted the bed. “What time is it?”

“Erm...early, still.” He stretches and the sheet slips further down his chest. He pats again and I sit awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “It was about five when I left.”

“And have you been lurking over me for long?” I wasn’t looking at him now but I could easily imagine the grin, cat like. “Of...of course not. Sorry, I’ll go...what time was it...” I was cut off with a squeak as his arm looped around my middle and dragged me backwards. “Stop saying sorry. You don’t need to.” I gave in and made myself comfortable, fluffing up a plump pillow and curling on my side. He mirrored me, and again studied my face intently. “You haven’t slept at all have you?” I shook my head silently. His mouth pursed this time, “Try now. You’ll make yourself ill.”

“Okay.” The word caught in the pillow and he rubbed the top of my arm, thumb tracing circles. “I wanted to talk to you.” He mumbled some sort of reply, already almost asleep and I open my mouth to start. To explain how and why I felt upset. How he’d hurt me with his reaction, how worried I was about everything after what had finally happened in that arena. I let my lips close, it could all wait. The peaceful look on his features wasn’t worth disturbing right now.

Maybe it would be better if I started trying to handle things on my own. Rather than crawling to him over every little upset. I turned onto my other side, and instinctively, I assume, he let his arm lay over me, dragging me back into him so I could feel his warmth.

It was enough for now.  
___  
The movement woke me up, the gentle shift of the mattress as he tried carefully to clamber around. I felt myself groan something incoherent and pushed my face further into the bedding. The lack of sleep had struck me instantly and there was a pounding in my head. “Elle?” I responded by raising my body slightly, my hair a suffocating mask. He leant back over, flicking more hair over my eyes. I swiped weakly at him. “I’m going to go shower. We’ll have to leave in about an hour, okay?”

“Yeah.”

I waited until I could hear the running water before I left his bed, stretching hard until I heard several joints clicking. I’d showered the evening before so that wasn’t necessary but making myself presentable still seemed like a mammoth task. I straightened his sheets a little before letting myself out, shooting an awkward wave to Tobias who was lumbering past. He grunted in response. We’d never really spoken, he had spent the years since his victory shovelling food into his mouth and washing it down with clear alcohol. It was unusual , it had to be, that I barely knew some of the other victors. But since Finnick and I were mentoring, thanks primarily to the desire of having us in the Capitol for that time period each year, I had no reason to speak to him.

Tobias came along quite often, Victors were always invited to the annual games, but he stayed in another part of the training centre, so I didn't see him.

I’d shrank into myself to deal with it all. Others had their own way of trying to most past their memories.Most of these attempts failed. That was evident across the board, other than the majority of victors from District Two. Our fellow Career districts. They raised some of the most terrifying tributes I'd seen.

Once home I dressed in one of my pre-approved outfits chosen by Luine my stylist. I like it and move onto my hair, straightening it as best I can with the variety of serums and equipment available before slapping on some foundation and mascara. I look better than I normally do right after the games and I ignore the pile of jewellery still tossed on the floor as I head downstairs, seeing that my hour is nearly up and grabbing some old shoes. Luine certainly wouldn’t approve of them which makes me smile, and I’m about to double check my appearance where there are several short raps on the door. I feel my brow furrow, it couldn’t be Finnick, it’s not time yet and he’s never in his life been early so I open the heavy wood a little cautiously, although all worry in my stomach fizzles away as soon as I see the familiar face.

“Good morning.” It isn’t but I wish him the same, already leaning towards the side table for my purse. “Oh no, Mom says it’s free. She put cherries in it for you as well.” His smile is so wide and innocent it stings a little and I insist on paying for the still warm loaf. I don’t deserve treats, I didn’t bring either of the tributes back again. Against his mothers wishes he accepts the coins and flips them in his little bag. “So...” He trailed off, as ever looking and acting older than his fourteen years, “What was Katniss like in person then?” I struggled against rolling my eyes but he had that dumbstruck look on his face, “I never properly met her.” He nodded, looking disappointed and this time the remark was hard to keep on my tongue. “I best go. Thank your mother for me.”

“Will do!” He beams before hopping back on his bike. I watched until he was out of the Victors Village. Finnick was obviously right when he said her act had fooled more people than I had thought. Finnick was often right.

I was glad for the bread if a little perplexed by everything else. I’d worked there for a time when I was younger, I often didn’t want to go home and face the bickering between my mother and whoever was her latest love interest. There was practically no pay but even so the sense of independence, hidden away at the back of the shop baking was thoroughly enjoyable. My brothers said it would be a confidence booster, a way for me to be forced into social situations. I’d always been quiet and fairly awkward.

That had only gotten worse after the arena, then came the panic attacks, that deep routed anxiety. Speaking to most people made my palms sweat.

I closed the door slowly, leaving it unlocked and treading softly to the kitchen, easily untying the knot around the bread. I was appreciative for it, the little hint that even as a failure there was some element of respect. Sometimes it seemed like everyone chose to view you as a Victor and not who you had been before. Little gestures like the bread let me know people wouldn’t forget.

I could offer to work back at the bakery I supposed. Not for any money, I had plenty of that, but it would give me something to do and I had always enjoyed it. There were limited options for a Victor to do, especially job wise. It wasn’t expected that you would have one, you won the games and were essentially free to spend your days however you’d like. You were supposed to have a hobby, a ‘talent’ to show ever so often. I’d somehow, again with Finnick’s encouragement, said mine would be cooking. I enjoyed it, I was fairly good at it and most importantly it was quite boring and something people didn't make a big deal out of.

I caught myself drifting again and force myself into the present, laying the still warm bread on the large, dense wooden table and grabbing a knife. They still felt slightly dangerous in my hands, like I should be tensed, ready to fling them at incoming tributes. I see a glimmer of a body and freeze, heart thudding against my ribs. I hold the handle tightly, knuckles popping and it takes a lot of self-restraint to keep the knife in my shaking hand, to manoeuvre it through the bread rather than aim it at the wall as I wished. There was nothing here, no-one here.

I took a moment to breathe, feel my pulse slow.

Next came the jam, made of rich fruit, some of which grew on the northern border of Four and much from higher. It was shipped into some of the shops seasonally and I always stockpiled it. They liked the profit and I kept it in the cool basement, making it last as long as necessary. I don’t use it lightly; I slather it on, suddenly ravenous and take several large bites.

My front door swings open. “The bread boy never comes to me.”

“Maybe because it’s because you refer to him as the bread boy.” I tease, although I ensure my mouth is empty before I turn. “You’re welcome to some.” There’s little point in me offering as he’s already torn a couple of chunks out, thick with cherries. “That could be something to do with it.” He chews and swallows. “You ready to go?” I check over myself quickly, making sure I hadn’t managed to smear jam on myself. “I think so.”

He nods, “You look nice.”

“Thank you,” I interject a little too quickly. “You too.” He winks with that smirk carving deep into his cheeks. “I thought we could take the long way, across the beach. Buy us a bit of time.” For the first time, I see a hint of wariness as he spoke. He never looked forward to this part either.

“That sounds nice.”


	3. There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elenia and Finnick must visit the families of the deceased tributes.

The sand was warming up nicely under the bright sun. By midday it would be uncomfortably hot. It was getting towards the end of July so that was no surprise. I hitched the bag over my shoulder up a little; it was very light, close to empty with just a couple of small trinkets. More than trinkets. I carefully made sure they were both still within the sandy fabric.

“What do you have in there?” Finnick asked, shovelling the last of the bread he had brought with him in his mouth. “You’re acting like you’re carrying explosives or something.” I pulled a face at him, tugging my sunglasses over my eyes. “They’re...” I felt that awful sticking feeling in my throat and had to force the word out, “Not for you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why,” His own eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Is it food?”

“Is that all you think about?” That was clearly far from the truth as any slight look at his figure revealed. But he always had a time, once we were back when he indulged a bit more. I didn’t blame him whatsoever for that. I was just surprised he never sank deeper, he always seemed to be coping. It always made me very jealous. “Obviously.” He drawled, before grabbing out at the strap, he was too slow and I jerked away easily. He rolled his eyes playfully at me before holding up hands in some false move of surrender.

The quiet fell back over us, but as we drew nearer to the harbour the typical noises struck loud and clear. The majority of fishing boats were gone by now, they left far earlier and would be miles off shore. But people were on their way to the factories where packaging and sorting took place, children ran along the paths carved in the low cliff walls to school. I’d finished school, as well as I could, once my games were over, simply for a sense of something to do, something to occupy my mind. That hadn’t been a fun experience when much of my first year back was spent a step away from another panic attack.

“Did you go back to school?” I asked, there would be little context for him but he answered fluidly, “A little. Just for more basic stuff. I actually had a tutor for a while.”

“I bet that was fun.” He didn’t answer; it had been a rhetorical comment. He spoke next, “You know, if you still want to say whatever you planned on this morning you’ll have to be quick. It won’t be long until we’re there.” We had started the ascent on stairs carved into the glowing cliff wall. “What?”

“Do you want me to start by apologising?” He held open the gate, allowing me to step onto the main promenade of East Harbour. It was the second largest harbour and the closest we had to a true town in Four. There were several more, but houses were spread more, little villages and settlements where people worked. We didn’t have much reason to move around much, only the poorest did that.

“That depends what you’re apologising for.” I’d left more than a natural pause before responding, letting myself linger in my thoughts. This was a sympton of the arena as well. Finnick closed the gate behind me and I slip my shoes back on, dusting sand from my feet. He caught me before I could get any further, spinning me so I was facing him. “I am sorry Elle. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know.” I pursed my lips, finding it hard to meet his eyes. “I had everything planned to say but...”

Someone walking past called a loud ‘Hello’ to Finnick and he leant around me, plastering on that wide smile and lifting his voice. I took a second to run through the mumble of words in my head, everything I’d wanted to say. It failed, as it often did and when he was back to paying me his full attention I was struggling to even speak. “I get that Sen-" Don't use his first name in front of people, "Crane...I know that...eurgh.” I wrenched my back. “I’m not mad at you. I was mad at myself and Crane and that we failed again!..” The hysteria is growing in my words and I can feel the volume lifting, the shake forming.

His finger lands so gently on my lips I barely feel it but it has the wanted effect and I hold them together, now breathing heavily. I can see a few sets of eyes aimed our way and Finnick twists me so I’m facing the sea again. I’m aware of his words, trying to soothe me and stop this embarassing display. His arm around me allows me to press my forehead onto his collar bone until I’ve calmed enough to and shove my sunglasses back up behind my fringe. “Sor-“

“Don’t.” I’m dabbing under my eyes, hoping to catch any make-up before it stains my skin and his thumb helps, tracing over my cheek. “I’m sorry, alright?” I nod and he gives me another second although I can see his eyes straying, no doubt up to the large clock that adorns the tower of the Justice Hall. “How are we doing time wise?” My voice is a little croaky and I clear my throat, hide the evidence. “We’ve got a couple of minutes. Do you want me try and cancel, I’m su-“

“No.” I raise the word to cut him off. “No, we’ll do it now. We need to.” He nods, although there’s trepidation in his eyes. I know it’s a fear of me breaking down again, worse, how I used too. “I’ll be fine. Promise.” I force some sort of smile on my face although I imagine it looks more like a grimace and he does the same, shifting over to grab my hand softly, the way a mother does with a child.

“We’ll talk later okay? Properly.”

“I don’t know if I want to Finn. Not again, or...” I gesture, “Properly. I don’t want it lingering.” I didn’t want deaths lingering on my conscience. I cursed myself for my selfishness. He checks me over again and I force my lips into a wider smile before he seems to give in and decide I’m as good as it is going to get right now. I don’t shake his hand away, on the contrary I hold it tighter, slip my fingers through his and relish the feel of it, such a simple gesture. He doesn't shake me off.

The bag slips on my shoulder a little and bumps our forearms. I can feel the question before his mouth opens and pull him to a stop next to one of the many netting equipment stores. The interest on his face grows as I dig through the fabric, gripping the golden shell necklace and the marble, slipping them into his palm.

Lines appear instantly on his forehead, “How did you get these?” His large fingers hold them delicately, running his thumb over the ridges in the necklace. “I had to clean them both, I didn’t think I could give them back...” I leave the end of the sentence unspoken. I couldn’t give Tali’s mother her necklace coated in blood.

“How did you get these?” He repeats again, finally dragging his eyes from them. He knows the answer, just wants confirmation. I sigh a little, his gaze is making me feel guilty, “You know how.” He waits for me to continue. “I wanted to give them to their parents. I just suggested it and...” I shrug like it was no big deal, although it had been anything but in the end, “I asked S... Crane.”

His smile is bittersweet as he places them back into the satchel, “I’m sure you did.”  
___  
The meeting had gone as well as it ever did.

Tense, full of tearful faces and siblings bad at hiding their anger. It was just odd where their anger was aimed. It wasn’t so much at us, some of it was but the tokens had had an effect on mothers I hadn’t seen before. Just having that small object their child had held and cared about, it hadn’t appeased them by any means but it had stopped them in their tracks and I’d never seen such an odd mixture of grief and pride. I’d let Finnick do most of the talking, it was easier and he was able to put things in a way I never could. He had a natural raport with people and I was just me. Tali’s mother hugged me tightly before they left, her broad arms making it hard to breathe. “I know you did all you could.”

She didn’t know anything and I was struck with how little time I had spent with her daughter. I did the basics, but every evening I was off, I wasn’t there for them. The evenings were the hardest for everyone in the centre, if a tribute was going to break down it was then. And it was prime time for Finnick and myself. Crane was around in the evenings mostly, in the break between planning mestings and going home to his wife. It was harder to predict once the games themselves has started, his free time depended very much on how the children fighting for their lives were doing.

Finnick said our final good byes to the Mayor and we were off, weaving past the ever growing number of peacekeepers.

“You said people fell for Katniss and Peeta.” I accused as soon as we were out of earshot. “But they were angry, at the Capitol.” I realised I’d left my bag in the hall and paused for a moment, deciding it wasn’t close to worth it, not when I had such pressing questions. “Do people think like that? On a bigger scale?” He ignored me, speeding up his footsteps. I would have been worried he was leaving me behind if his arm hadn’t snaked around my hips. “Finnick...” He swiftly pulled me to the side, close to the trees decorating some shop fronts as a car went past.

That was quite unusual in itself, cars were used for long journeys, and there was not even a true road through East Harbour, it was a maze of cobbles. I let my eyes stick to the vehicles as it roared past, catching the white and understanding instantly. “More peacekeepers.” I hissed as if he hadn’t realised. “Why do we need more peacekeepers? We hardly ever have...”

“Elenia, shut up.” I was too perplexed to be offended and did as he said although now I was taking time to look at people’s faces as they walked past, to notice the mood as many shopkeepers shot a nervous look out of their front window and closed their doors far too early in the day. There was a sudden stillness, and a thick cloud of tension sank over the usually lively area. I’d missed something, in my three days locked away in my house. “What happened?” I blurted, forgetting my agreement of silence. His jaw tensed and he lowered his voice although there was no-one close to us and we darted down a wide alleyway. I watched him stare until the car had dispatched the white coated men and they had entered the Justice Hall.

“Nothing has happened...”

“Then why...”

“Nothing has happened yet.” As his hand wiped over his forehead I noticed a thin sheen of sweat. “Hopefully they’re just being overcautious.”

“Of what?” He looked at me like I was stupid and I lifted a brow, however true that thought may have been. “Look,” we started down the alleyway now, looping onto a less disturbed street, “You were right last night...” he glanced around, “About not buying it. They did, in the Capitol, some did but there are already murmurs...”

“Murmurs?” This he didn’t explain and he didn’t had to. Katniss had shown that there was a way to get around the Capitol, and I knew there had been a small revolt in Eleven when Rue had died. That much hadn’t escaped me because it was something Seneca had to attend a meeting about. The feeling was turning, people were starting to realise that maybe there was a chance something could be done. It couldn’t, the Capitol had made one mistake letting her live. They wouldn’t make another.

I said as much to Finnick and he nodded, “They see it as an act of defiance towards the Capitol that Twelve has gotten away with.” I didn’t ask how he knew, he always seemed to know something.

“But they’re still alive?” I tested him gently, “If she is still alive then it can only be a mood, people won’t react too much...like you said...they’ll create a Martyr if they kill her and...”

“Exactly.” He obviously thought he had won, “Which is my point now as it was last night. Nothing to worry about so long as that doesn’t happen.”

“But they’re acting like it might.” The street was staring to come to life again but we had almost reached the cliff top, “Snow’s scared.” The thought seemed impossible, ridiculous, but it had to be true. “He’s scared people will take advantage of this and do something.”

“Not with about five times as many Peacekeepers as usual they won’t.” He concluded, ending our conversation.  
___  
I was glad I’d managed to take off my skirt. It would have been a pity to have gotten it wet, and Luine, my stylist, would have been furious. That being said my shirt would suffer, soaked in sea water, and caught up in clumps of sand.

I kicked myself back into shallow water, simply letting the tide drag me towards shore and Finnick. I stop myself, hands pressing into the sand. “You look like a well dressed mermaid.” I giggle in the most girlish way, unable to stop myself and starting to shift so I could sit beside him when instead he grabs me, not roughly but hard enough so that I could feel each individual finger tip on my cold skin and trails me back, letting the water help until my back was against his bare chest.

I was glad he couldn’t see the dark blush that spread up my cheeks. I was so acutely aware of every part of his chest pressing against me, the white shirt that was plastered to my skin now sticking to his. His hand moved from its position across my ribs and lifted up a few tendrils of hair, moving them aside so he could see past me. He's warmer than I am, and I can feel that body heat ebbing into me. My blush fades and I allow myself to relax into him.

“Finn...”

“Mmmm.” His cheek brushed against the side of my head gently and I was aflame again instantly, “Er...I...” I had to clear my throat again, “Are you worried?”

“About what?” His face moved back.

“Everything.”

“Always am.” His honesty made the butterflies in my stomach drop, and nerves set in. “You think something is going to happen because of the games?"

“I think so.” I ran my tongue over my lower lip, tasting salt. “It might not. I could be over-reacting.”

“Maybe.” I tried to soothe, moving my hand to lay it on his knee. The fabric of his trousers was almost black, and I could only imagine how heavy they were. His hand skirted over my own briefly, “You’re cold. Come on. We should get back anyway.” I nodded, I was cold and my fingers were becoming claws. “Although I still think a swim was a good idea.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t a good idea I just said I didn’t want you to throw me in and ruin my clothes.”

“Well you got to save the skirt so all in all-“

“Yeah,” I breathed, feeling tired quite suddenly, “Brilliant.” I went to stand before I realised again exactly what state of undress I was in. My bra was extremely visible through the top and my skirt was several feet away on the sand leaving me in my underwear. He sensed my discomfort and stood, gently using my shoulder as a prop before returning to the shore and shaking himself dry, a little like a dog. Against myself I feel my lips widen, and found myself enjoying the view a little too much as he pushed his hair back. The sun had started to retreat behind dark clouds and I knew before long we would be expecting a storm but weak rays still struggled through and seemed to catch on him.

The water on my face was starting to dry, making my skin feel tight. “Here.” I’ve spaced out, catching myself several years in the past when my skin had been tight from drying blood. He hid the caution on his face like an expert, so I had to imagine my own had been struck with horror. He was holding out his shirt and I accept it, the chill dancing on the increasing breeze. It was over-large of course, just skirting the top of my knees. The fabric was instantly tacky against my damp skin again.

“Come on. Before you freeze to death.” I let him guide me ashore and I slip my skirt back on, letting his shirt hang over it. My body is still full of adrenelin, calf muscles twitching. The relaxed sensation I’d had in the ocean, the only place I ever really felt so peaceful had vanished utterly.

“We should think further ahead next time. Bring towels.”

“It was your idea.” He grabbed at the fabric around his ankles, trying to relieve some of the water. I felt as cold as the ocean had been, and it was a struggle to keep my teeth from chattering. “Right as ever.” He glanced upwards, “And I think you were right about the storm as well. Let’s get back before it starts raining.” I nod, and we plod along the sea front, shoes in hand and sand trapped uncomfortably between my toes. Even Finnick’s mood had dropped and I had to wonder if that was to do with me and my episode on the water. He waited until we were only a few hundred metres from home. “I’m going to my sisters tomorrow.” I stop my mouth from falling into a frown.

I hated it when he wasn’t here but I nod, make sure I don't let that show, “How long for?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he pushed his hair back, it was drying a little, the golden colour slowly emerging, “Probably a week, maybe more. I haven’t seen her in a while so...”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“And you’ve got your brothers coming up haven’t you? They normally do after...” I’d half forgotten about my brother’s phone call the day we had arrived back. I’d been too out of it, still coated in the stench of the Capitol and trapped in my head. “Yes, they’re coming Sunday. Both of them and all the kids.”

“You’ll have a busy house then.”

“I guess so.” The same could very rarely be said of Finnick. He had more friends in the District than I did, or at least people he was closer too, actually bothered to remain in contact with properly. But he lived alone, his first and only rejection of the Capitols' wants for him had ended with his parents dead. His sister was older and was already married and moved away by that point. She was scared to return so Mags had taken over the role of his family. My own visited several times a year, back and forth when they could persuade me to leave the Victors Village. It was harder going to Luka’s, he now owned the house we had grown up in and there were memories of my Father everywhere.

And my Mother well... she accepted the money I sent readily enough but there was no real relationship there, no bond other than sharing blood. She was my mother and for the last several years she’d been little better than a stranger. I knew some of the fault lay with me but I was almost numb to it.

“Come on,” filtered past my ears and I blinked back into the world, seeing I was still walking, just about, but my eyes were firmly plastered on the sand. “Before we end up getting swept out to sea.”

“Sorry.” He, as always, barely seemed to hear the word and continued, matching his pace to mine. I wonder how long he had spoken before realising I wasn’t able to hear him. “So... how long are they staying, do you know?” It certainly seemed like he was repeating himself.

“I never know. Depends if they managed to pull any favours at work and get some time off.”

“Always the way.” He mused, although neither of us had really ever worked a hard day in our lives.

Our houses came into view just as raindrops began to fall, “I hope it’s not too bad a storm.” I complained quietly, more so to myself than him. “Well, it’s the right time of year for them isn’t it? And I don’t think there were any when we were away from what Mags said.”

Mags. That was why he had brought up his trip away. “I’ll keep an eye on her. When you’re with your sister.” His smile was that sincere one that always made me feel like I’d said the wrong thing. “Make sure you look after yourself too.” He caught my chin gently, making me nod as if I was a doll. I tug myself away and his expression turns sour for a moment, he wipes it away. The rain is worse and we dart under his porch. That was an element my home lacked. “You have anything fun planned for this evening?” I shot him a look and he chuckled, “Let’s do dinner.”

“I haven’t got much...”

“Mags has, she suggested it. But I figured since you’re the A-class chef....” I pretended to sigh as if I was giving in when really the thought was a gentle flicker of excitement. “Fine, come over whenever. But make sure you bring everything. All I seem to have a lot of is jam and fruit.” He grinned, eyes flickering down my front as he went to open his door. “Oh, sorry. Do you want your shirt now or...”

“It’s just a shirt. Keep it.”

“I’ll wash it and bring it back.” I promised, earning that little smile again, though it fluttered and died as a loud crash of thunder echoed in the sky. I avoid his eyes, he knew how I felt about storms. They reminded me of my games. “I’m going to get in and shower. Just let yourself in. Bring Mags.”

“Aye Aye Captain.”


	4. Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes and we get to the annual Victory Tour

Mags insisted on helping me wash up. Although there was really no need. I think it’s because of her hands, the deeply setting arthritis. She could have it healed; I’m sure, if she came to the Capitol with us and sucked up to the right people. But she never taken advantage of it.

The Capitol's advanced healing certainly wasn’t for everyone. Maybe that was why, maybe there was a more righteous side of her that thought if others didn’t get the chance why should she? That wasn’t a view I had adopted, letting them laser my eyes practically the moment I had reached the Capitol for the first time. I think it was more because I was terrified still, astounded and confused by what I saw. They hadn’t wanted me to have to take my glasses into the arena, vanity in its purest form. Who wanted to vote for an unattractive tribute?

Others were like Mags. Chaff, the only male champion of District Eleven had one arm. He’d lost the lower half of his right arm in his games, many years ago. He must have turned down the prosthetic option; I didn’t know why he had done. I’d often wondered, seeing him each year in the Capitol. Everyone coped in their own way, maybe Chaff needed that reminder. He was a big drinker, that was really all else I knew of him. We'd never spoken directly, Eleven and Four hadn't had an alliance for at least a decade if I'm remembering correctly.

After they had left and I’d gone upstairs, I did my usual paranoid rounds before heading to bed, checking everything was where it should be and doors that were usually closed were so. Finnick had been upstairs earlier and I had heard his wandering about but thought little of it. It was only now that I noticed the slight difference in the smallest room. Crane’s presents, rather than the mess of gold and jewels on the floor were laid out neatly on the desk. I knew without a doubt Finnick would have gotten the wrong idea. He shouldn’t have been snooping. If he thought whatever he did it was his own fault, he could have asked me. He had no reason to be fiddling with my things. I'm not even sure why my eyes were stinging.

I let my fingers skirt over a few of the items, my heartbeat was slowly increasing and that choking feeling was trying to rise up again, a hand stretching to clutch my throat. I wouldn’t let it. I storm around the desk, opening the bottom drawer which was close to empty and use my arm as a shovel, unceremoniously dumping them deep inside and slamming the wood shut so hard the edge of it caught on the desk and splintered.  
___  
My brothers and I never touch on the subject of the games. Once I was back, my form of ‘better’ we tried to move past it. After a couple of years we stopped speaking about the Capitol altogether, once Crane was in the picture. Or rather once Crane was the picture. We talked about them, their work, their children’s schooling, and other less vital silly things.

I didn’t always have to try as much around them. Although at points when it was busy and loud I found it hard to concentrate and my stutter would appear again. I had to give the impression I was fine. Being with them helped, but I still had nightmares. Those I hardly ever managed to escape.  
It was worse in their homes, and harder to keep it a secret. The walls were thinner; the houses smaller. They never said anything, regardless of where we were or how loud I thought I had been.

My eldest brother preferred to act as if they didn’t happen, or that simply didn’t hear them. Thom was more open, I think he wanted to speak about it, all of it, but Luka had always talked him out of approaching it.

When they stayed over at mine for that long week he finally trie. We were sat on the porch, Phillus had gone to bed claiming a headache and Luka and his wife Rita were sat up, watching some nonsense on the screen. The children were all asleep, excited by the prospect of a trip to a small cove not far down the coast in the morning. Their friends were far from them here and they grew bored easily. I was hardly the most entertaining person. I wasn’t sure how we got into the conversation, we were just talking about being tired- although it was for very different reasons. Eventually, with an awkward cough, he asked. “You been having a lot of nightmares since you’ve gotten back?” I glanced at him, hesitating for a second. How honest should I be? “I always do,” I replied softly. He nodded, although he wasn’t looking at me. I could only imagine how awkward he felt. He was quiet Thom, not as silent as I had become but close. He was hesitant, careful.

I hated to think it but I knew he would never have survived the games if he was the sibling that had been drawn in.

Still, he could have done more with his life. He was smart; brighter than Luka and myself. He could have gotten into something more in-depth. Fish patterns, wildlife conservation, something more important. Instead, he was a trawler, he worked the longships deep out at sea where the water was the colour of midnight.

“Is it about being back there...in the er...arena?”

“Most of the time.” He nodded again, jaw tense.

“What part? I mean,” he seemed to stumble over his tongue. He was as nervous to break into it as I was, “I mean...what bit is the worst?”

“None of it was good Thom.” I said a little sharply and regretted it instantly. I try some honesty, “It’s normally Tyger...”

“From District One.” He finished, everyone knew about that moment, although they liked to skip over it when it was shown. In their rush to end the games and force the remaining tributes together, they had damaged their own equipment. We had removed our tops in place of bandages for the wounds that coated us, the microphones too far from our mouths, and my words too muffled from our position and hair. They had made the necessary improvements the very next year.

I could remember it word for word. I relived exactly what was said and happened often.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be...”

“No,” I shook my head slightly, shrugging further into the thin jumper I was wearing, “We never talk about anything, we never have.”

“I’m sorry. I think we thought it would be better if we just moved on and you forgot.”

“It’s not something you forget.” My tone ended the conversation.  
___  
Finnick came back after a week or so and neither of us mentioned what he had found in the spare bedroom. In fact, I made a conscious decision to not mention Seneca at all. Finnick, however, seemed to be of the opposite view. I don’t know if he was testing my emotions, trying to suss me out but ever so often he would bring Crane up; often in some really obscure way that didn’t fit in the conversation.

I was trying to put it behind me and I wished he would.

But still, days passed into weeks and months where little changed. Our routine returned and I forced myself to a few more social occasions, weddings of distant relations and the annual celebration of our Mayor. But really a small amount happened that was worthy of note; the weather grew worse although it was rare to have a cold day this far south. Sometimes, after seeing snow in other Districts on my Victory Tour I wish it would. I had pictures of the woodlands from Seven coated with a thin layer of ice hanging in the kitchen.

They were another world. Sometimes that was what I longed for most, especially when we reached the festive season. It had always been hard without my father, harder still as time passed and everything else had happened. I always spent it with my brothers, in one of their houses; as Finnick did with Mags.

Once I was back another dreaded countdown began. One that involved countless phone calls, shipping of cloth and clothing designs scrawled on creamy paper. The Victory Tour was approaching. Before I knew it, those long dragging days seemingly gone in the blink of an eye, it was the morning of, and there was a sharp rap on the door.

I’d done the basic steps of preparing myself, including ignoring Finnick’s sniggers at the thick gloopy like conditioner that had turned my hair into snake-like tendrils. I was hoping I had done enough, shaved, conditioned, moisturised, but as ever with Luine, my attempt wasn’t acceptable.

It was pointless her coming really. I know she had designed and had several different outfits made, the options were hanging in my bedroom. But it could have been sorted in one of the many conversations she’d forced me through on the phone. I was not in the mood.

That wasn’t to suggest I ever had been, but this year more than ever just seemed harder and part of me was starting to pity Katniss Everdeen. The Victory Tour was horrific when you were the Victor, smiling; dragged from District to District to smile at the parents of those you had killed and make small talk with previous winners. All of us were just different, unfortunate options for their future. I hoped the two of them brought each other some comfort, but now, with the fuss they had made filming them in their many catch up videos, we had to at least be civil.

As Luine was bustling around me, Naloh,our escort burst in, the back of his hair another extravagant design and a new colour of eyeliner over his lids. “Gold,” He explained before I even had to ask, “After Cinna, you know, Katniss Everdeen’s stylist? Everyone is in love with him, they all wear him.”

“Are you wearing him?” Luine giggled even though my voice had been deadpan, showing me her shoes. I pretended to be impressed. “Honestly,” Naloh complained lowly, checking his watch, “Where are Mags and Andromeda? Can’t stand this constant tardiness...” As if on cue there was another knock and the two appeared, ready to be barked at by Luine until she had tried at least three dresses on each of us.

“I have the baby to get back to,” Andromeda moaned to me as soon as their backs were turned, “I don’t want to leave her with my mother too long, by the time I get back they’ll both be sick of each other.” I smile a little as I led her upstairs, the three of us forced into one dress after another.

Luine always said she found it easier to design for me. I was younger, that was her only reasoning, she could get away with baring my legs or breasts. That and I was far more in the Capitols sights, it was better advertising for her, a better chance to show off her skill set with all the events Seneca had dragged me to. “That one,” She decided finally, tugging at the hem, “Leave your hair down but put some light eye-makeup on.” She sighed, hand lifting to stroke down my cheek, “I should have brought the prep team.”

I assured her very quickly there was no need, shrugging away and leaving the others in her clutches; thankfully sneaking to my bedroom, putting mascara and eyeliner on, patting powder over my face and applying perfume as I brushed my hair into the thick waves it sat in.

It was enough. I wasn’t going to be on camera long, it would linger on us before they did the speech. We’d then meet them quickly on their way out, perhaps join them at the meal; view a dance. It was always awkward, but I’d heard less this year than ever and wondered if it would be different as there were two of them. It would make sense and it would give us a chance to try and decide, once and for all that was between the young ‘couple’. Finnick and I had spoken over it recently and we had some manner of an unpleasant bet forming.

By the time I walked downstairs the other two had left, probably with strict instructions on what underwear to slip on under their dresses as they dressed at home. “We leave in half an hour.” Luine confirmed, “Marck is here for the boys.” In the months that had passed, I could certainly say that I didn't miss the ring of the Capitol accent again. The clipped high pitched tone, the lift at the end of every sentence. Some of their accents were more grating than others; that, I’d realised was down to wealth. Even the Capitol had its poorer areas, although by comparison to places like District Eleven they were havens. It was irritating, Luine was one of the only people I could bear from there. Naloh used to have his moments under his stern demeanour but they were rare and growing ever more so.

“It will do,” Luine decided, eyes scouring over me, “Although I do wish you would use more conditioner, your hair always feels dreadful after what the salt water does to it.” I smiled, biting back several rude remarks as her long blue eyelashes skirted over her cheeks. Her own hair was full of extensions, giving her curls in such an unrealistic volume they looked almost cartoonish.

I would never understand why they dressed like that, why they did all the modifications to their bodies and skin that turned them odd colours, gave them strange proportions. Their fashion was as alien as most of their values. Few went against any of them, least of all the person I had been closest to from their luxurious part of the country.

I stood awkwardly, letting Luine scuttle off to select shoes. I liked the dress, it came just above my knees and the fabric was light and luxurious. It was white, with a layer of lace over my torso and chest. More importantly, it was simple. She had this idea of keeping me looking angelic, pure. I didn’t know if it was to make up for how I had been before when the country had watched me slaughter others. Maybe she just thought it suited my skin tone. I half shrugged to myself, fighting back a smirk. I really didn’t think that Luine had too much going on behind those dyed copper toned pupils.

Maybe that was why I couldn’t really dislike her, she was too simple. She was as harmless as anyone who shipped of children to be murdered every year could be.

“I think heels and more jewellery.” She pottered back down, shoving some into my hands, “After all, we’re driving to the Justice Hall, so walking isn’t an issue.” She tucked back a section of my hair and I tried to shrink away again.

“Just shove them on so we can rally everyone.” Naloh sighed again, looking at me as if I was the most painful being alive. For an escort, he never seemed that happy to be here. Maybe it took more of a toll on him than many of the others. That, or he was just bored of it all. I had no idea what he did in-between the games, probably floundered around not too differently from myself.

I slip the shoes on, Luine fiddling with my dress and hair until she was satisfied, letting me push the earrings through my ears carefully. “I’m just popping over to Mags and Andromeda... poor Mags might not be able to do the zipper up in what I put her in!”

I truly detested the Victory Tour. The time between games should be ours, we had earned it but still, it was broken with events like this. Too often several Victors including myself were dragged back to the Capitol for other things, gala’s, Presidents Snow’s birthday. That was when we played trophy. I was glad that element of it should be over for me now. At least I assumed so, I hadn't been called on at all since last summer. Finnick had on three occasions. He came back and pretended he'd never left each time.

“Alright, the cars are here. Let’s get out.” Naloh practically demanded, his heavily tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest. He tutted to himself, muttering to no-one about how rude we were all being. I walked slowly after him, trying hard not to trip on the steep steps and halting by the closest car.

It was odd to see the other Victors together. Considering there were only about fifty people alive to understand what we had been through we barely spoke. I communicated little more than through nods with all other except Finnick, Mags and Andromeda. The other four men were practically strangers to me; although I could recall how each of them had killed. I suppose never having them as a mentor or partner kept them that way.

Finnick spotted me, swiftly walking over. He looked handsome as always, my eyes accepting the sight eagerly, dark well-fitting trousers and a light shirt, clinging to the tops of his arms. “Fun as always isn’t it?” I rolled my eyes at him, finding it hard to tug them away from his collarbones peeking out of the low collar of his shirt. He mused softly, “Naloh looks like he’s about to explode.”

“We can dream.” I found myself stuttering bitterly, earning a loud boom of laughter that made me jump against the vehicle and only encouraged more.

A few more minutes passed and although the most recent storm had long passed it was cooler than usual and my arms pricked as the hairs rose. “Alright, come on.” Naloh demanded, “Split into the three cars, everyone.” He forced a smile, his teeth were extraordinarily white, even more so than his eyes and it always made me a little nervous. Finnick ignored him and clambered in beside me, Mags getting the seat in the front as was her right. Andromeda huffed again, fiddling with the ends of her short chestnut coloured bob as she perched on the edge of the leather.

Her skin wasn't as tan as Finnick's and my own was but that was because she went outside far less. Her husband didn’t have to work due to her wealth and I completely understood why and how she had made her house into a safe place, away from it all. A place to grow her family. Her home was her sanctuary and I had always been envious of that.

The drive to the Justice Hall was slow, even though it was just over a couple of miles from the Victors Village. We passed small groups of wandering people, the numbers seemed less than usual. “Looks like we have even more peacekeepers than before.” I hissed under my breath to my friend. His head twitched in response.

The moment the cars stopped behind the hall we were met by the people in the white armour, much to Naloh’s disgust. “Sorry, we do not need assisting, we know exactly what we are doing. I’m a professional and-“

“Orders.” Barked a female one, her tone making it clear that was no way around her demand. “With me please.” We were led like sheep through the ground floor, no time as we usually had to inspect the table laid for dinner or have a short word with the Mayor. Instead, we went straight through and across the stage to our own section, the plush velvet roping us into little more than a pen.

“What on Earth is going on?” Andromeda hissed at me, looking concerned, “We don’t need peacekeepers to say hello.”

“Apparently we do.” I drawled, squashed with my fellow female victors. Finnick close behind me.  
The level of security had increased dramatically and I tried for several minutes to twist my body and catch Finnick’s eyes, they were squinted a little, lines created that didn’t yet exist on his smooth skin. He was worried.

I swallowed, my mouth growing dry.

The mass of people was squashed as well, not allowed simply in a crowd as they usually would, but instead, they were in columns, split into sections, all held apart with Peacekeepers. Something must have happened I realised with a start, not here, we’d know about it. Another District, something must have happened related to the two young victors on the train hurtling this way.

And that something definitely hadn’t been good.

They arrived not long afterwards, Naloh had returned, having to lift his voice over the chatter and informing us we weren’t meeting them, we were just to stand here and wave as the camera trailed past. We were to say nothing to the victors, there would be no celebratory dinner, they would do the speeches, thank the families of the dead tributes and leave. I glanced at the relatives as they clambered up on their own small stage opposite; Shim's father had a deep black bruise on one cheek.

This wasn’t good. It really wasn’t any good.

It must have been one of the higher districts; they worked downwards towards the Capitol. That didn’t really eradicate many options. I was desperate to think hard, which were the angriest, who had the least, or indeed, most to lose? Who would dare to turn against the Capitol? That was what had to have happened...

I heard the bell chime loudly, distracting me as a small group of school children arranged by the front to give Katniss some flowers, dressed up to the nines. I wasn’t aware I was shaking until I felt a small stiff hand catch mine and I took a deep breath, earning a glare from Luine opposite who mimicked for me to smile. I stretched my lips so far they felt like they would split. Katniss and Peeta walked out slowly, but the applause was loud, hands hitting each other hard and fast.

The others around me did it gently. Mags had said to me once that no Victor ever felt like they deserved applause. At least not the half decent ones.

I let my hands rest in the right position but made no sound, eyes travelling over the crowd. It was there again, over a lot of faces, that mood, that expression of quietly building rage I was getting so accustomed to. The peacekeepers had to yell for the large space to grow silent and they stepped up to the microphone stand, Katniss looking nervous, tight-faced.

I hadn’t spoken to her the year before, I had no reason to. In truth I hardly spoke to Haymitch other than to scheme towards the end of their time, he was too drunk, too loud in his words whilst slurring others. He made me uncomfortable.

But he was a natural, Peeta, perfect for the crowds. The Capitol would eat him up if they had the chance. If he’d been the lone Victor he’d have made out coated in riches...and everything else that came with being adored and wanted. But she still stood there; it had hit me with the clapping that far more people than Finnick had believed saw her act as one of defiance, a hint of rebellion. It was so dangerous. She struggled through, there was nothing personal in her half of the speech, barking the words as if they were physically hurting her, her voice stifled. She wouldn’t have had much to say anyway, as far as I was aware she had never spoken to either of our tributes and poor Shim had lasted just minutes.

It was sickening, the Victory Tour, no amount of parties and meals could make up for constantly being faced with the families of people who had to die for you to live. The guilt was overwhelming. You knew just how much people hated you under their smiles and most people, ones who still had some sense of conscience, hated themselves as well.

A couple of young girls holding flowers moved forward, hair in that familiar braid. They exchanged a few words with Katniss that they had no doubt been reciting for weeks at school before they stepped off and her face turned, shock grabbing it. I followed her eyes, a group of about five people were stood tall, arms stretched towards the sky, fingers creating that symbol from Twelve she had used herself in the arena.

The peacekeepers near us shifted, one barging me into Mags and earning several cruel words as they forced their way through the crowds, grabbing the offenders roughly, screams loud as the couple vanished into the back of the hall. My stomach twisted and sent acid racing up to my throat.

I caught Katniss’s gaze for a split second. She looked terrified.

What had she started?


	5. Harm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reaction to the Victory Tour

There was a moment of stunned silence in the square. Then another yell pierced the area and the cameras shut off, slinking back onto their track and scooting out of the way of harm.

And harm spread quickly.

I felt Mags clasp my arm as the peacekeepers, the largest amount I’d ever seen, descended on the crowd, even those who had nothing to do with the fools who’d shoved their hands high. The peacekeepers saw no difference, everyone was a target. They dove into the crowd, batons raised as people scrambled to get away from the growing chaos. I could hear the yelps of the five who had dared, so defiantly and publicly, to show a level of support for Katniss that was clearly unacceptable.

It had been the sign she had held up to the cameras, the day Rue had died. It was a symbol of District Twelve, some silly little thing they did. It certainly wasn’t a childish habit now. The noise grew louder, and the screams of the guilty blurred in with everyone else, parents calling children, couples searching for another.

There was blood soaking into the sand that always caught between the cobbles and just as swiftly I felt it on me, sinking into the skin of my hands, spots on my hair from the cut just above my hairline. The tear in my thigh reopened, burning into my arms as I desperately tried to cling to his bloody fingers. They were slipping, Tyger was slipping and would end up in the abyss. I was going to lose him.

“Elenia...move!” I blink, wrenched harshly forward, a claw around my wrist. My hands were clean, covered in nothing but sweat, my leg was fine and the burning in my shoulder was Finnick, trying to get me to move, to unfreeze and leave the danger. I took one harsh breath. I wasn’t there, not in the arena. That was over.

“Elenia!” I let the oxygen force its way down my throat and the noise around erupted fully again. The crowd was evaporating, the peacekeepers everywhere, looking like they were attacking at random, shoving past people, calling hard orders. “Here. You can't do that, you need to stay here okay?” I shot him a shaky nod, not trusting myself to speak, “We need to get home, stay with me?” I nod at him, my eyes wide, Mags huddled into his other side.

I probably looked as mad as I truly was.

Finnick wiped a hand over his tensed jaw, eyes darting, deciphering the situation and looking for our best route. I glanced around, the others were gone but I could make out the back of Andromeda with Tobias and a couple of the others.

“I saw your brothers in the crowd.” His voice broke over the waves of distress, “I think they’re meeting us at yours okay? I couldn’t really hear Luka but that looked like what he was mouthing. “ His teeth met his lower lip briefly, “We need to go now, this is getting out of hand.”

Mags nodded furiously and I let him pull me along, although my eyes lingered on people crumbling to the floor, batons still flying and bashing against weak skin. It was impossible, what was happening; what we were weaving around? We broke from it eventually, having to take more time for Mags but there was some reprieve. They wouldn’t dare touch a Victor, especially not Mags, they’d be insane too, more trouble than it would be worth.

Yet everything had spiralled from so small an action. No, I realised, pausing as my heel caught between two small cobbles. This had come from those berries, from that hint of rebellion, that moment the Capitol had been defied and the main rule of their games had broken. There was only supposed to be one Victor.

We stop down a smaller road, doors and homes were slammed shut and locked, people closing wooden shutters. “That was ridiculous.” Finnick panted, and I finally pulled my hand away, he’d held it so tightly that blood flushed to it now, making it burn. “Sorry.” He breathed and I nodded, rubbing it gently, more concerned about the growing red patch on Mag’s bare shoulder.

“Bastards,” I grumbled, finally feeling able to speak, although she shook me off. “Where did everyone else go?”

“Naloh dragged Luine away as I got you, that was about all I saw...well other than your brothers.” I nodded at him, biting the inside of my cheek and tasting blood. At least I was no longer seeing it on every surface. I have to stay here, stay with Finnick. I felt an odd sense of calm suddenly, that analytical part hidden deep inside my damaged psyche took a leap forward.

“And they’ll be at home?” Finnick nods again, tongue dancing over his lips. There were still the sounds of shouting, arguing from the square, catching and drifting on the wind. My stomach churns, people were being beaten, hurt. What could have happened? And how long ago, the peacekeepers had been here for...

A gunshot echoed in the air and was followed by a split second of dead silence.

“We need to get home.” This time I broke Finnick from some deep thought and he nodded.

“Yeah...we do.”

“Take Mags.” I replied with as much force as I could manage and they agreed, him slinging her onto his back like a doll as we peeked around a corner. A woman screamed as a house further up the hill burst into flames that dominated the sky. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, an earthquake threatening to destroy. It only dropped as Finnick called my name again, a few steps ahead, pale.  
I forced my feet to move, there was nothing we could do right now. This was beyond us surely? This was madness, utter lunacy. I followed after my friends.

What were the authorities so scared of? An uprising? That sent a shiver vaulting up my body.

After a while I stopped, surprised even with our slow pace to find myself panting, tearing the heels from my aching feet and holding them loosely. “Finnick!” A voice rang out, a bike skidding to a halt close to us. He turned and the boy clambered down, I barely stopped him from falling. His face was flushed a deep red and sweat was in beads across his temples. He looked close to tears. “You have to come, they’re going to lash the people who put their hands up!” I felt the words catch in my mouth, lash them? I couldn’t remember the last time someone had been publicly lashed whatsoever. “One of them is my brother, please you have to come, they’ll listen to you! Please, Finnick!”

He couldn’t have been much older than fifteen, one of the children who stood each year, praying someone would volunteer so he would definitely be safe for another twelve months. I was certain Finnick had made up his mind before he faced me, so I don’t know if my gentle nod made any difference. I slid Mag’s arm through my own, watching as they both darted off, the boy’s bike lay on the ground.

I grabbed it, murmuring to Mags and leaning it against a nearby chunk of rock, a piece of the cliff that had collapsed years ago, become a landmark for girls to meet boys at.

“Let’s head back, okay?” She was worried about Finnick, she managed his name, eyes desperately searching that direction. “I’m sure he’ll be able to do something, you know how much influence he has.” I was saying it more for myself than her.

Lashes, in the square. It was barbaric. I just prayed it was nothing more. That the gunshot we had heard was a warning shot, not murder.

It took a while for us to get back, I wasn’t strong enough to sling her onto my back as Finnick had, so we walked slowly, and I kept my sight out desperately for my brothers. They’d be there before us, waiting in my living room, perfectly fine. I wish I had known they were coming today, I would have looked out for them more, been more aware and ready to act.

I was still struggling to comprehend what had just happened. How had it spiralled out of control so easily from just the position of fingers, a raised arm? And Finnick’s face, I knew he was aware of something I wasn’t, he received enough phone calls from the Capitol, arranging his ‘visits’ to influential people. Charming them over the phone to find anything to his advantage. He had to know something, it was written all over his face.

“This is bad.” Mags mumbled, the words slurring together as they did. She was the oldest person I knew, grandparents weren’t that common unless you were a young child or very well off. I didn’t know what exactly the average lifespan was, that was hardly something they taught you in school, but a lifetime of hard work definitely look a few years off what you would expect. I didn’t like to think about it, like so many other things the idea of death, the external reach of nothingness petrified me. And yet I had killed people. Sent them to that black eternity, been forced to smile about it, stutter my way through interview after interview like it was fine.

I hated it, I hated the Capitol. I hated the games, I hated it all.

I’d just never comprehended that others had, at least not in the way to show it like this, knowing the risks. A brisk wind danced across my arms and I shivered, we were almost back, away from all of the other houses but most doors we had walked past had been closed, one only opening to offer Mags a coat.

“There you are!” Luka jogged over suddenly, own cheeks still flushed, wide green eyes scared. He had obviously been waiting by the entrance to the Victors Village, “Are you both okay? Where’s Finnick, he was supposed to be with you!”

“He went off to help.” I snapped, not liking the way his voice had lifted, “Let’s just get inside alright? Is everyone okay?” I was still terrified something bad may happen, even so far away from the madness.

“Someone knocked Rita over but yeah, we’re...” There was an expression on his face I didn’t like, “I wasn’t anywhere near them, they were at the back but, we’re fine...I...just...what the fuck just happened Elle?”

I didn’t really have an answer for him.  
_____  
A few hours passed, the children were tucked asleep in my second bedroom, the five of them in the large bed. It was the biggest room in the house, obviously meant as the master bedroom. I preferred the other, I didn’t need so much room, it only emphasised how isolated I was.

We turned on the hologram in the hopes they would cover it but nothing, they showed the speeches, the glimmer of us former victors. Thankfully it almost looked like I was clapping, so I couldn’t be accused of that. We sat watching Katniss and Peeta’s Victory Tour so far.

Drinks were passed around, both of my brothers muttered in low, hard and hurried conversation. Mags was dozing in an armchair, a thick blanket was drawn over her by Rita and Phillus. “I’m going to go and check on the kids.” The latter proclaimed, trying to break through the awkward feeling in the room but failing, her feet padding on the stairs as she vanished.

Finnick should be back by now. What if he had gotten involved and gotten hurt? Taken to the few cells under the town hall? No, they couldn't. I was right, he held too much influence, he was too well loved and known. The Capitol would be distraught if anything were to happen to him. I'd be distraught if anything happened to him.

I scold myself, trying to clear my head. That wasn't helping, this wasn't helping. My fingers were tapping a random rhythm close to my knee. I was growing agitated, I could feel it, my legs tense like I should be moving, not sitting here unable to do anything.

“Do you agree with what they did?” I barely heard my own voice, just the heads twitching in my direction.

“If you’re asking us if we want an uprising that’s a tricky subject.” Luka pressed carefully. I keep my eyes holding the flickering fire. “I don’t think we’re going to have much of a choice. Something else had already happened.”

“How do you know that?” Thom leant forward, elbow resting on his knee, chin on his hand, “Have you heard something from the Capitol?”

I shook my head. “The security, we’ve never had all those peacekeepers before. Something must have happened in another district to warrant it.”

“Well there’s no way they’d show any of that is there?” Luka chipped in scornfully, “But it makes sense...you...you think it would do anything? If all the districts did revolt? If we tried...”

“Tried what?” Rita cut her husband off, “Another rebellion, you want Four to end up like Thirteen? Don’t be ridiculous. By all accounts from what Elenia has said we have it good here compared to a lot of other places!”

“We send children off to die every year; they sent my sister off for their own sick entertainment!”

Suddenly I was nameless, not in the room. “She came back.” Rita grabbed his hand softly, voice lowering accordingly, “She’s here.”

“Yes, but she’s...” He trailed off and I left, he didn’t have to say it. He wouldn't when it was in my hearing range but I knew it would be, “She’s not the same is she?"

I had no idea he felt so passionately. It was too dangerous and I took a long sip of the water, glaring out of the window when I noticed a light flicker on in Finnick’s kitchen. I could see it through the gaps in-between the wooden shutters. Why hadn’t he come over?

I didn’t bother with shoes, slipping out of the back door and treading softly over the damaged grass, patches of dying yellow forming patterns. The groundskeeper seemed to be slacking lately. I stopped, rapping my knuckles sharply across the wood. I heard the sound of a chair scraping across the wood before the door swung open. I never knocked, so he may not have been expecting me.

The air leaves me sharply, and I'm not able to push the air back out of my lungs. “It looks worse than it is.” I gape on broken syllables instead as he moves aside, closing the door gently behind me. It was cool in his kitchen, cooler than mine ever was.

“Wha...” I still couldn’t.

“They shot someone.” He sounded so unlike himself; all the warmth and cockiness that resonated in his voice had fallen, the words had so much meaning but felt so empty. “They’ve set up the stocks, the pole for lashes...” His damaged hand clenched into a fist, “A shooting squad.” His kitchen twisted in my view and I groped for the counter to remain upright. “And I couldn’t do anything.”

The creak of his voice sent a physical pain through my chest and all I could do was slam into his. He was shaking but his arms easily wrapped around me, chin resting on top of my head.

It wasn’t just the shot, although that was horrific enough. The death before him would have transported it back to what we all tried hard to forget. The sight of blood, the act of seeing someone die was the arena, it was the games.

I found my voice for him. “You did everything you could. You went back with that kid and...”

“What I said made no difference, they didn’t even listen. Me saying it was the same as anyone else.” I felt a brow creak upwards, “Well,” he forced himself to smile, “I guess the insults they shot at me were far more colourful than if they’d spoken to a canner or something.” I stop myself from asking questions, well aware of the unfortunate view people had of what exactly Finnick, myself and other Victors did in the Capitol.

“We need to get you cleaned up first, 'kay?” I was aware of him nodding but had to push his arms for him to release me, “Sit down.” My voice would have sounded firm if it wasn’t for the slight quaver but he did as I said, still looking downtrodden, fury glimmering every few seconds. He had gotten a large bowl of cold water ready, a bloodied rag.

His face wasn’t as bad as I had feared originally, there was a small cut by his eyebrow and his lower lip was swollen. I wanted to ask him but didn’t dare, the look was enough to render me silent once again.

His hands were the issue, he’d obviously swung a lot of punches, tried to pull people back. His knuckles were already covered in specks of drying blood and there were scrapes all over his palms and elbows. I needed to disinfect it but all I could think of were spirits, some clear alcohol. I knew he had some, he barely moved even as I gathered the bottle, nearly dropping it and swearing loudly. He flinched a little as I pressed a cloth soaked in it against his fingers, the smell stinging my nose and the sore patches where I had torn off too much nail with the building panic.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t shush me.  
_____  
For a month all ships were grounded. Fishing and production completely shut down. Not only did it affect the deliveries to the Capitol it started to affect everyone. People were going hungry, which rarely happened. So much of our food came from the ships and wealth they brought.

The peacekeepers ruled us all. The head peacekeeper, a new woman who sounded as if she was straight from District Two set a strict curfew. There were boundaries for movement, no-one was to be out of their homes when it was dark, children were not to roam unsupervised. Shops could only sell certain materials, although after a couple of weeks they were running low themselves. If you broke any of these new rules you would earn yourself five strikes.

At least one hundred people were lashed. It was compulsory for the family of that person to attend.

It didn't stop with lashes. Four groups of people were found guilty of conspiring against the Capitol. They were accused of plotting, or being part of an underground revolution which seemed to have formed on the fishing boats, brainstormed on the docks. Seven men were killed by the firing squad before the curfew was lifted. Their homes were burnt to the ground. It was the highest form of treason.

One of those men was Luka Volute.


	6. Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elenia struggles with the fallout from her brothers death

I watched him die. It was compulsory.

I was there, hands heaving me back, keeping me away. Could I have done something? Even if I had broken free and run to the firing squad, would I have made a difference? Or would my brains have joined his; splattered against the front of a small shop? I didn’t know, they were just some of the questions that constantly stabbed inside my head, kept me awake or left me tossing, waking up breathless from nightmares.

I should have seen it coming. I should have seen the hints and signs that appeared so obvious now.

We should have stopped him, Thom and I.

I should have stopped him.

I should have run in front of the Peacekeeper and begged for his life. I no longer know if that would hold any weight. Maybe a year before, with everyone’s knowledge of my relationship with Seneca I could maybe had changed his fate. The Peacekeepers were more informed about the Capitol than anyone in the Districts, they would know he was long gone.

I had no more of a voice than anyone else. Even less now; my last name made me a danger, a risk to be around. That was why Rita had moved in, my brother's wife and children were ostracised, people unwilling to be too friendly. Their own home was nothing but a scorched mark on the ground.

I didn’t mind, although I had had little choice it made the house warmer, there was more life.

Life for them, that was. I felt like it had all but ebbed from my body. Everything I had done was to keep my family safe; that may not have been my aim throughout my time in the arena. That was the last chance I felt I had to be truly selfish. Once I was out, and the threats had started, once Finnick had confessed what was expected of victors, expected of me I had done it all for them.

To keep my family safe, to protect my brothers and their children.

I’d failed there in every respect.  
___  
The deaths had shocked the District to the core. Everything planned, any sense of rebellion had vanished the moment those bullets had pierced their flesh. One after the other in a line. It was like they were putting down stray dogs, rich with rabies.

Not like they were people, honest hardworking people. They had been his crew, Luka’s inner circle had seen the spark that Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark had started. I’d told Luka about Crane, that had shown the Capitols fear he had reportedly said, exposed their weakness. Why had I shaken that statement off with just a harsh look?

They'd plotted, weakly, stupidly and more than anything, bravely. I don’t know how far it truly spread, no-one was likely to mention anything now. That was a death sentence.

For the month following, it seemed our whole District was waiting for the shooting squad.

Everything was still closed down. All of the telephones lines had been cut, I couldn’t ring anyone in the District and definitely not anyone outside it. We were trapped fully in the narrow space of Four, tall, and newly guarded, walls on one side and the ocean the other. But, for most people, when the docks were open, when they could go back out on the sea; and their children could go back to school, their lives started again.

Mine hadn’t yet.

In the daytime it didn’t seem real, but at night, there was a new memory to merge with the horror of my time in the Hunger Games. This one involved watching a chunk of my brother’s brain meet a dark stone wall. It felt the scream burn my entire body. I wasn’t sure how many days it had been since the square was littered with bullets. They passed in a blur. I wasn’t even crying anymore. I didn’t. I was trying, trying so hard to be normal, to grieve normally but I couldn’t.

Any little thing sent me back to that moment. I wanted to scream until my throat bled, it would help relieve the tension and poison pulsing through me.

My bed was my haven, at least, it had been at first before Finnick had physically forced me from it, his words a little hard, more so than they had ever been before when aimed at me. “You can’t lay there forever.” I’d shrugged, curling back into a ball, barely grunting as his arms scooped me up.

“No, I’m not letting you just waste away. You need to grieve Elenia, not sink into whatever the hell it is your doing.” He forced me to stand; his hands firm but not rough. “It isn’t healthy and you’re scaring everyone. Luka wouldn’t want this.”

I wanted to ask him how the hell he would know what Luka wanted. One of the last things my elder brother had wanted was to break free of the dictatorship we lived in. Any chance of a successful uprising had failed, and there were more peacekeepers patrolling the streets than ever. Everything may have lifted and reopened but there was still tension, still hesitation. I’d half tuned Finnick out, “You’re going to get up at a normal time and do things, not mope, not anymore. Okay?” he lifted my chin up gently, “For Luka.” I opened my mouth, barely a squeak before I gave up and shut it, “Please, for me.” He had me there, and the way his eyes pierced mine released a flood of butterflies within me.

But for the last two weeks, each day defined properly on the calendar, I had done that he asked.  
___  
There was movement upstairs and I heard the two pairs of small feet pattering on the steps, dragging myself away from viciously scrubbing the table to give them a smile and gather some bread for their breakfast. The spontaneous bread delivery had stopped as well.

Suffering for a Victor like this had caused an odd divide between us and them. I hated how that sounded.

I cut it into a few thick slices, browning it in the oven as they chatted, sticking fingers into the jam pot when they thought I wasn’t looking. I didn’t have to force a smile around either of them, and they didn’t bug me to speak at all. Not that they brought it up, Rita hadn’t let them see, thank goodness. Again I was unsure whether or not it was healthy, would benefit them to talk about it. I left those decisions to their mother.

I playfully tapped hands away from the sugary substance before I lay their plates down, spinning to grab them some dull knives and water. They both thanked me, Luka had installed some good manners in them. That was something our father had always been tetchy with, manners and respect.  
I wasn’t really deserving of either.

I rubbed my hand gently over Annie’s head as I left, darting up the stairs but trying to keep the creaks to a minimum. Anytime Rita slept in was precious and I knew she wasn’t doing it often.  
I had to keep up some facade of being strong for her. I was turning into a little housewife. I made sure the girls ate; I made sure they went to bed at a decent time. We couldn’t both spend days trapped in a zombie-like state. She wanted to go to work to distract herself; I just passed time making sure everything was a perfect as I could make it.

If she got a half decent nights sleep a little extra effort was worth it. I knew she would and had already done the same for me, not that it made a great difference. I pretended to be asleep when she checked, but whenever I did actually drift off I woke up with my fingers in claws ready to attack.

It was every night now, the nightmares about the arena, the addition of Luka and sometimes Thom. They were inescapable and caffeine was becoming a lifeline. Everything just put me on edge and as usual, swimming was one of the only things that helped. Especially in the middle of the night when I was struggling to breathe. Finnick would kill me if he knew I was going out when it was dark like I did, but then he had no reason to be off with me. He was keeping something from me, that much was evident.

He definitely had a secret, well, being who he was he always had more secrets then a person needed. But for a change, this revolved around him. And he wouldn’t tell me. I wanted to ask, I really did, to say something and get through to him. I couldn’t bear the thought of him being in danger as well.

In some of my nightmares, he took my brother's place.

Rita left for work just after eight o’clock, taking the girls to school on her way. I wasted a little time doing some clothes washing and pegging them out in the slowly warming sun. We were deep into spring now and I had hardly even noticed. Winter was brief but still, the weather was steadily increasing. Before long it would be summer, and the Games my life revolved around would be back.

My stomach twisted tightly with just the flicker of a thought. My hatred for the Capitol and everything it stood for had never been stronger. I tried to push that back and continued with my day. I went for a run, out past the greening fields until sweat was drying on my face. I followed it up with more tidying, children messier than expected, and a bath.

Part of me wanted to hold myself under, inhale the hot water and let it flood my lungs. That was weak. I’d wasted too much time being weak. I dragged myself upwards, dressed and half did my hair, preparing a small lunch. I’d been spending more time with Mags lately, doing what I could to help her out and keep her comfortable.

And she was comforting in her own way. There was never any pressure for conversation and I felt like whatever it was Finnick was keeping to himself was just furthering the divide in our relationship. I was seeing him less than ever, and I wasn’t sure whose fault that was anymore. I was upset he was keeping something from me, on top of everything else, and he had to struggle with me in general. I’d hardly been coping for weeks, I was drifting through days with no purpose. I would be sick of me if I was him.

I head over to Mags early afternoon expecting the usual but then there he was, bringing her a bunch of food. His broad shoulders were bare, skin catching that golden tan again. He smiled at me, asking how I was and receiving a shrug in response that made him bite his lip.

“They’re announcing the rules of the Quarter Quell tomorrow...did you know that?” I nodded, it was earlier than I had expected and I wasn’t looking forward to it. Mags had told me the last time they had sent double the amount of tributes in, forty eight children who had to kill each other. That was the year Haymitch had won, I knew that much. I wasn’t surprised he turned to alcohol.

“Haven’t had any tips dropped, especially without the phones.” I think the stab of pain echoed across my face because he backtracked quickly, “Anyway, do you want to watch it together?” His smile was forced, almost sarcastic, “Discuss it? See if we can sort any kind of game plan a little earlier?”

“No.” The word was harsh and it was my turn to try and fix my words, “I mean, I can’t tomorrow. I don’t feel like I...”

His hand slid to my shoulder, pulling me closer. “You don’t have to do it this year, everyone will understand. I can talk to Mags or even Andromeda and we can try and sort-“ It wasn’t likely, he knew that and my look seemed to secure it, no-one wanted to take our places, last year none of the others had come at all. That was something some did, used the games as a holiday almost, the lush Capitol was appealing, especially for Tobias, the winner before Finnick, in his mid-thirties who was addicted to food and alcohol. The Capitol had both so he usually made his excuses and joined us.

But he would never offer to mentor. Not in a million years. It was too close to the past.

I shook my head, “I’ll do it. It’s not that...I’ll, I’ll be okay by the time they come around but tomorrow is just too...” The struggle to find suitable words was evident. “What time will they be?”

“They’ve announced the speech for midday.”

“Okay.” I breathed, “I don’t want to be sitting in so I’ll be,” I gestured in the direction of the natural pool, the route I usually ran. “I’ll come back here, I just can’t face more bad news or Snow right now.” His look was so pitiful it almost made me angry. “I’m fine Finn I promise. I just know whatever they announce will be horrible and I’d rather hear it from both of you than from any of them”

“I get it.” He trailed off, for once looking lost for words, “Thanks for bringing more lunch stuff over, Mags said she thought you’d be coming. I’ll sort it out.” I reached up to my hair and held his hand tightly for a moment before releasing him, slipping closer to Mags as he retreated to the kitchen. She just met me with a look that made me spin on my heel and follow after him. He had clearly been invited over today with the intentions of the two of us speaking.

I stood in the doorway of her large kitchen, taking the time to look him over properly. His colour may be returning but he did look tired, unusual bags under his eyes and a certain hunch in his shoulders. I needed to know what was wrong, or at least let him know I was worried, that I was here.

He started pulling bits out of bags, the food shortage was pretty much over now and those treats from other Districts were making their way to the markets. I joined him, passing him ruby red apples that reminded me so closely of blood it felt wrong holding them. I lingered +when handing the last one to him. “Finnick.” His eyes flickered to me, but he moved along to the basin, running water over the fruit. “Whatever is wrong you know you can tell me.”

“It’s nothing. And you have plenty to worry about.” He places the bowl down with a little more force than necessary. “There’s nothing to worry about because it’s done. This year we do what we always do in the Capitol and we wait for them to deal with Katniss if they haven’t already...” My stomach twists and he continues, “It won’t be too long until their wedding. They keep showing programmes on it.”

I scoffed a little, “Since when did you sit and watch ‘Capitol Propaganda television’?”

“It’s not by choice.” This time my brow furrowed and he sensed my question, “I’ve been spending time with someone,” he saw my mouth open, “It’s not a big thing Elle, you don’t even know her.”

I felt oddly like someone had just slapped me across the face and twisted my torso back to the bag, grabbing out the meat I had purchased. It's hard to keep my voice level, “How long has that been going on then?” Peeking through my hair he shrugged. “Have you told her anything about...” I didn’t need to finish my thought.

“Of course not. And I won’t. Really, it’s nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”

That didn’t comfort me. For some reason the thought of him being with someone here, and it meaning nothing stung. We were home, surely if he was going to dive into a relationship, or anything at all it had to mean something. The Capitol forced that on us there, here we had choice. I swallowed down several comments, none of them kind. “So, what dress did you vote for?”

A wave of jealousy I didn’t know existed crashed into me.


	7. Click

I was awake before the sun had risen. Propped upright against the headboard with a lukewarm glass of water in front of me. The bed was safe as long as I was in it. Attempting to force the images that had plagued me all night I threw myself onto my side to get more comfortable.

I managed to keep myself half drowsing until it was late morning. I could hear both of the girls getting up and ready for their day. Due to the nature of the announcement school was cancelled. Neither of them were worried; still far too young for the risk to be there.

I hoped.

Between mangled dreams and memories different scenarios, each more horrible than the last, kept appearing. The children being younger had stuck with me and as much as I tried to convince myself it couldn’t be that, it was so horrific it just seemed to make sense. Last time they had sent in forty eight children, the first Quarter Quell had made the Districts choose who to send. That was before the volunteering really started from what I could gather.

I had spent the evening doing my research and trying to get Mags to divulge anything she could still remember. Each Quarter Quell was worse than any usual games, and this third one would surely follow the pattern and be by far the most evil, the cruelest. I was desperate to assure myself that younger children would never work, people would revolt, no-one would want to see those still with milk teeth dying.

It was beyond nightmarish, but with the revolts, with everything that had happened here in Four and must have happened elsewhere. They had to do something to shock us fully back into submission.

I tried to avoid both of the girls as much as possible, but Annie and Frey were not to be deterred and they insisted on playing with some of my more extravagant outfits, tootling about in heels double their size. I let them, not at all concerned that they may crease some of Luine’s precious creations. Even my mood towards her, not that she had done more than send a beautifully written condolence letter had soured. She had no idea about the circumstances of Luka’s death, at least not from the looks of it.

I wouldn’t see her until I dragged whatever poor individuals had been selected for this years Quell to the Capitol.

My heart juddered and I drew myself from my nieces, dressing in my usual running wear and slipping my trainers on. “Make sure you don’t make too much of a mess.” I softly told them, taking a long moment to admire them. There was more Rita in their appearance than Luka, her dark eyes, odd in themselves in a District where blonde hair and blue eyes was the norm. “I won’t be too long.” I promised Rita on the way out, thanking and accepting the orange juice she held out. “But I’ll be with Finnick after, to just try and...”

“Digest it.” She nodded slowly, ending my sentence for me; picking at her thumb nail, “Well, we’ll be watching. The school said they have to ‘speak about the implications’ tomorrow as part of a large assembly.”

I sighed, “Of course they do.” The District would be doing everything they could to prove our loyalty to the Capitol and more importantly, President Snow. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“I won’t let them destroy your closet too much.” She promised, a dance of a smile across her face. It was as close as she came nowadays. I smiled back, plastering it wide across my cheek before I left, tugging my hair up as I started across my front lawn.

I did a couple of stretches before my feet were slamming against the sandy ground, pushing myself, going a faster pace than I would normally to try and empty my mind. By the time it was close to noon I was struggling to breath and was a couple of miles down the coast line still. I’d lost track of time and run too far; I was paying for not warming up enough with cramping pains in one calf.

Regardless I kept my far slower jog back constant, checking my watch and seeing it was almost quarter past twelve. I doubted they would drag out any celebrations before the revelation; people wanted to know, this was a Quell, a big event, an ‘exciting’ year. Acid lifted in my throat that stung as I swallowed it as a familiar figure came into view.

If Finnick had come to find me it had to be bad.

I took a few more steps and stopped, letting him make his way over. The smile he shot me as entirely false, tensed. His cheeks were flushed. I took a shallow breath, “What did they say Finnick?” His hand rubbed over his jaw line, my worry only increased, “Finn...”

“Victors.” He all but blurted, as if the word was poison. I felt my face contort but the meaning behind the word didn’t click until he recited exactly what Snow had read up on that podium, “This year’s tributes will be ‘reaped from the remaining pool of victors. Some way of showing that even the strongest are not immune to...” His words dropped for a moment before he erupted, flung up his arms, as if the words were a physical being he could destroy; tear apart with his bare hands. I cringed away from him, unconsciously taking a few backwards steps.

His anger was justified, truly justified. We were promised that if you won the games you were left alone. You got to live, to never have to return, you were immune from anything like this. I couldn’t even be shocked at my lack of reaction, I was numb. To the words, to what would follow.

The only emotion smouldering was a sudden sense of relief that my nieces were safe.

That only lasted until some statistics, until the different possible pairings began to form, even as Finnick’s chest still heaved with ragged breaths. His swearing and cursing had faded as his hands had slid over his face. He wasn’t crying. I could tell.

There was eight victors in our District. Five men, including Finnick and three women. Mags, Andromeda and myself. That beautiful sense of unfeeling ended as swiftly as it had taken over. I was overwhelmed, choking on the first coherent thought I managed.

It would have to me. Out of the female victors, the only tribute that could, would. I would have to re-enter the arena. I’d die in these games.  
___  
My throat was raw when we reached the Victors Village and Finnick gently, having taken my hand to finally persuade me to move off my knees, diverted me around a pile of shattered glass. They stung, my knees, the leggings I was wearing had little holes in now and I could see the spots of red.

I supposed I should get used to bleeding. I placed my free hand over my mouth to stop myself from vomiting. The glass made it clear how everyone was suffering, the shock and horror that would have engulfed all eight of the people here. That only seemed, deep within, to resonate what I had realised.

It would have to be me. That was the only way, it was fair. I had the least to lose.

I was able to control my sobbing, to force it far behind barriers until we were alone in his bedroom. The dam broke and I shattered with it, hysterical into his shoulder until I was sure that I couldn’t physically cry any more. I waited as my heart race decreased, and I could tell he was calming a little as well, the initial shock soaking in.

I just dreaded what would come next.

There was no way I would ever stand back and watch Mags died in there or have Andromeda leave her baby to face killers. It had to be me, we both knew that. His fingers caught in the tangles in my hair but we froze when there was a loud yell from outside, I wasn’t sure who it was although it sounded like Fyg. He was more of a recluse than any of us, but as I heard him break, and again I went with it.

“I hate them.” My words were one long slur, a gurgle. “I hate them.” The phrase continued, I was malfunctioning it felt like, my throat cramping. But I couldn’t stop, I was stuck in a loop, a vicious cycle. I had lost control.

I was aware of him trying to shush me, hands grasping my shoulders, trying to bring me back down, into the reality I detested, wanted to escape forever. With a jolt I was slammed onto my back, him all but straddling me, hair in unusual disarray, his own eyes red.

“It’s a third of a chance.” I aimed a thump at him that as always he caught, holding my wrist tightly and keeping me flat, his body a straight jacket over mine. “You have a third of a chance, you don’t have to go back in. Elenia, breathe...”

“Don’t.” I hiss, although there was no power in my words, no real anger, especially not at him. “There’s three of us. But it’s me, Mags and Andromeda. There is no way I could ever let either of them go in there. You know that. It would be despicable, so absolutely despicable to let either of them go in and be slaughtered!” I tried to struggle from him feebly, feeling the itch of tears start up again. “I have to go in. You know that!”

“It’s just thirty three percent.” I don’t know how he seemed so calm, resolved. It only made me more angry and I managed to move suddenly, tearing myself from his grasp and spilling onto the floor, staggering to my feet, the sobs were an ache under my ribs.

“And you would want to see Mags in there?! You know full well she wouldn’t even last....”

“Don't you dare.” He growled, jumping to his feet and I froze instantly, heart shuddering to a standstill . My mouth formed that usual apology; that was too cruel, too far. It was true though, he had to know that. He shook it off with a huff, running his hand again through his messy hair. “Don’t ever say something like that.”

The look on his face hurt. I could almost feel the dagger held by the girl from Two, Malen, slicing through my gut and gasped on the pain, ending as always with weak tears running down my face. But gently, my hand trying to muffle them and the noise that came with it.

That was it, wasn’t it? I had two months if I waited, if I truly tried in there. It didn’t matter, I had no chance in winning.

“I can’t win.” My voice was high and scratchy, “But it has to me be me that goes in.” He was staring hard through me and I took a cautious step towards him. “No, it doesn’t.” He’d lost the rage in his words and they felt childish.

“Yes it does Finn.” He met my eyes, although he didn’t smile at his nickname. “You know that.”

Mags was an idol in the District, everyone loved her. I loved her and I would not watch her die. Andromeda had a family, she’d managed to move on from the horrors of it all. I hadn't, I had the least to lose, the least damage would be caused to others if it was me. I nodded to myself again, words caught on my dry tongue. I waited for some response, for Finnick to magic up some way to avoid this whole situation, for him to turn around and tell me this was the worst joke imaginable. He said nothing and I left, carefully counting between my breaths and sneaking into my own home through the back door. Rita must have heard me on the steps but she didn’t say anything. I could hear the girls reading in the living room, no doubt the meaning of the words they would have to memorise for school had alluded them so far.

I half stumbled up and into the main bathroom, sliding the bolt across the heavy door. Running through the list of steps for a bath, letting them consume me as I followed the instructions I had set out clearly. Wait until the water was hot enough and then place the plug down. Run in the white liquid Luine forced on me, and then the pink. Grab a razor from the cabinet, undo and brush my hair before sliding in, placing the green exfoliating rock on the side next to me.

It was too hot, the water, stinging across my torso but it was necessary.

I had to think. But all I could feel was every injury I’d suffered before reopening, happening again. Each blink sent me back there, Tyger dangling from my hands. Switching places with my brothers and Finnick.

Who else could it be? Who else would enter?

I didn’t even want to work it out, let them creep into my mind. I lashed out suddenly with another screech and my arm slammed against the glass protector, the smash loud, glass splaying over the tiles. I was bleeding on my forearm, a long cut, the blood diluted by the water, a red smear blending in with the oils. Soon I’d be nothing. The temptation to find my way there quicker was there, an itch sinking into my brain as the water set to boil me alive. But that was it, I was weak.

What would Luka want? What would Tyger, everyone who had died in there before and after me want?

Not to let the Capitol win. But then, someone else would have to go in if I didn’t, it wouldn’t change it.

I couldn’t let them lose Mags. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. I wasn’t even aware what I was yelling anymore, if it was even comprehensible. I shouted until my throat couldn’t cope anymore, until my body was red from the effort, the heat and the blood.

I was left shuddering in the slowly cooling pool.  
___  
Rita called a healer to stitch my arm.

I hardly felt it, the smell of the alcohol was more offensive than the needle forcing its way through my skin. “I just fell.” I lied again, pointlessly, the pain was written all over my face. I wasn’t sure my nieces even believed me. “But you’re okay now.” Annie offered unhelpfully, lower lip jutting out at the glare from her mother, demands they leave us to it.

“It was stupid is what it was.” She spat, “So stupid and selfish...”

“Like it makes any difference now Rita.” She tore her hand from mine, pacing back and forth until the healer was done and Rita overpaid her for her help and her ‘discretion’. I almost laughed, word of my breakdown would be across the District in days. They would be expecting it, waiting for news from their again doomed Victors, but thankful in a way that it meant their children were safe. At least their children were safe for another year.

“Where are Finnick and Mags? Have you seen them?” I asked gently, taking another longer sip of water to soothe my throat, every syllable hurt.

“At his house.” She answered, still furious, “Dealing with it in a sensible way.”

“By ignoring it.” I countered, looking at the pristine bandage around my arm. It hadn’t been deep, the healer just stitched it to avoid any chance of an infection setting in. “Don’t.” She caught it, making me wince, “Don’t lose your mind and...”

“I think I already did that.” My reply was blank and she exhaled sharply.

“You know what I mean, you react like that.” She squeezed harder before dropping it, “And then suddenly an hour later you’re as if nothing has happened, as if it’s all perfectly fine.” I ran my tongue over my teeth, “That’s far worse than any reaction I would have expected, you have barely spoken for the last six weeks and now you what, try to kill yourself like some sort of coward?”

“I thought you wanted me to speak.” There was another smash as a plate met the wall and I jumped, fingers clutching the edge of the table tightly.

“You know what, you’re right.” She laughed bitterly and falsely, “Is that what you want to hear? You’re right to completely give up already, that makes perfect sense Elenia...your brother didn’t die for...”

I was already up on my feet, every muscle tensed. “Don’t you dare ever try and use what he did against me. He didn’t do it for me.”

“Of course he did! He died because of you!” She shrieked, “Since I have known him, since you came back it has picked at him what happened to you! Of course it was more for you than anyone! You were always just too selfish and self absorbed to ever realised other people suffered about it all!”

“Oh,” Anger flashed through me in pulses, “that’s funny, I don’t remember you being in the games Rita!” I was panting, my feet in the perfect stance for attack that Tyger had taught me in the training center, once an alliance was agreed upon. “I don’t remember you at any point having to slaughter people; watch them die and spend every single second sure you were going to die as well!”

“I am sorry for what you went through, you know that.” She huffed, deflating only a little, “But you won, you came back to riches and admiration and Seneca Crane." She spat his name, saliva caught in specks on my arms.

Rita was practically shaking, “My husband did not die for you to just give up, that would kill him all over again.” She ended in a whisper and I shook at head at her, my arm was finally starting to hurt, heart was racing, blood pounding around my body violently as I left the house, my own hands quivering.

He died because of you.

I started off towards the small pool of water but stopped in the centre of the path, close to a small palm tree. Fuck her. I didn’t let myself hit out again. It wasn’t like it changed or solved a thing. I couldn’t do it again, it wasn’t fair. I changed my destination several times in the next few seconds, gradually settling and turning. Finnick was already there, standing silently in his doorway, the flickering light behind him silhouetted him beautifully.

I sighed, a loose stone on the ground dug into my foot and I groaned, anger simmering that I forced back down, taking it out by digging my nails into my palms once again. “Can I come in?” I sounded like an old woman who had smoked for most of her life.

“I could hear you and Rita.” I didn’t have an answer for him, “You want to talk about it?” I shook my head, why, in every situation was he utterly perfect at handling it? “Mags is asleep. She doesn’t seem too worried luckily.”

Maybe she knew there was no way it would be her. Or maybe she hoped it would be.

“Good.” I sucked on my lower lip, “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” He trailed off a little awkwardly, and I caught his eyes on my arm.

“It’s not too bad.” I rushed and he seemed to struggled to meet mine again, shrugging but moving aside to let me in, the door closing with a soft click behind me.


	8. Creases

The rays of weak light broke through the open window, sounds of the birds started around the same time. I could imagine them, stretching their wings as they took flight. I pushed my feet further towards the bottom of the bed feeling the pressure in my knees vanish with two loud clicks. I couldn't fly away, as much as I wanted too. Fly us all somewhere safe, away from District Four, away from Snow and the Capitol. I enjoy this fantasy for a few minutes until Finnick states to wake.

Behind me, he shifts slightly, his body curling unconsciously around me. His arm draped is again draped heavily over my waist, thumb grazing my bare hip bone. That patch of skin tingles and I wonder if, still half lost in his slumber he even realises it's me. Maybe he had been spending twilight intertwined with her and the movement felt natural.

That made the tingle die and any sense of peace I’d had in those few groggy seconds faded. Yesterday hit me like a slap in the face. The Quell.

I feel my body go rigid and instinctively tuck my knees up under my chin, trying to keep my head balanced, look at it objectively. I couldn’t let my emotions take over, I have to just process this. It doesn't help when easily, Rita’s words from the previous evening start to echo around the room. I'm struggling to remain in control of my breathing, the numbers I'm counting jumble in my brain and each breath becomes a wheeze that I cannot restrain in my chest no matter how hard I try.

Finnick’s fingers tighten on my thigh and he mumbles something incoherent, clearly waking up himself as he turns onto his back. My body instantly feels cooler, and my hand tries and fails to contain my gasps.

Finnick has a one in five chance, twenty measly percent. He wasn’t going in there with me. It was so highly unlikely. I’d be fighting to the death with someone like Tobias. And death is exactly the prize I would receive. He yawns loudly, sitting up and resting his head on his hands, knees pulled up. “Morning.” I offer weakly, trying to level out my breathing. My voice and throat seem even worse today. He mutters it back, flopping back into the pillows, “How you feeling?” It's a ridiculous question but I roll to face him, offering him a pathetic half smile as if I'm not on the verge of yet another anxiety attack. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

In less than three months I’d be dead. I knew that thought wasn’t going to leave me. If anything I may as well count down the days, it was the kind of order and control I liked. Not that I had any here. He smiles back far more sincerely, reading my mind in that easy way he always does, and brushes hair from my face. “You don’t have to assume the worst.”

“Yes, I do.” I shuffle to my knees, pushing the windows open further, so that the room floods with the slightly salt tinge of the outdoors. His large shirt, a quick version of pyjamas is draping across my thighs. “I’m being realistic.”

“Well don’t be.” I move back, folding my legs under me and glancing through my lashes at him. I'm not up to eye contact, “I know what you keep saying but there’s still a decent chance...”

“No there isn’t.” I breathe, watching as he lay back down and mimicking him. He rolls onto his side again, elbow propping up his head, there's a slight grazing of stubble appearing. He only ever let his facial hair grow at home. I'll miss that.

“There isn’t a chance, either way, we both know that. There’s no way I can win.” His jaw tenses. I don’t apologise.

“You won before.” He presses carefully, studying me closely.

The memories shudder like old photographs behind my eyelids, “That’s different. I had help for most of the time and...” I didn’t dare blink, the images would scar.

His gaze wouldn’t release mine and I grew uncomfortable, "You made it work, you were so smart with how you played it, resourceful.” I was biting back disagreement, “Even if you did the opposite of everything we said." His attempt at humour doesnt raise a smile. His mouth purses but he continues, "And you’re good with your aim, with a spear and knives, not bad with a sword. You know knots, you can climb, you can fish...” He drags his thumb over his lower lip, it was a move I knew could practically make women in the Capitol fall to their knees. I didn’t know if he even realised that. “Do not undersell yourself.”

“I haven’t done anything with weapons in years.” I argue back weakly although his confidence in me is touching, even if it is unfounded, “And unless the arena is one giant pool the amount of swimming I do won’t help.”

“Endurance.” He answers instantly, “And you run a lot which is great for it.” I start to pull myself up, carefully clambering around him until I could reach the water on the bedside table. “Besides, we have two months until the reapings. That’s lots of time.” I ignore him for a second, letting the implication soak in as the water did.

“We? Y...You want to train?” I ask, a little confused.

“We’re Careers aren’t we?”

“No.” I snap instantly, twisting to face him, watching as he removed himself from the twisted body of the covers, his own was hardly covered, just some shorts that had ridden up his thighs. “I am not doing that again. I’m not being that again.”

“It would be the smartest thing.” He shoved himself fully upright, “Most of One and Two will have been doing training just simply for fun. You know what they're like. You have to look at it like a mentor. That’s exactly what we would suggest, what we have been trying too.”

“There is no way I’m doing the Career pack again. Not after before.” I swallow the remaining water hard, glad for the slight soothing sensation on my throat. “I’m not kidding myself Finnick, I made it before because I had Tyger. No-one is going to do that this time, regardless of who else gets chosen.” I cut him off before he can bite back, “Anyway, I have...” I work it out quickly, “Fifty eight days until the reaping. That’s fifty eight days here, at home and I am not wasting them.”

He muses over my cowardice briefly, “You think if it was the other way around, Andromeda would volunteer in your place to keep you alive?” His voice is a bitter sting, sticking in my skin. “Because I’m not sure she’s all as selfless as you think.”

“That doesn’t make any difference to my decision.” I half lie, my mind already trying to work out if he has a point, to hunt for any signs. I would tell her anyway, tell her she had nothing to worry about. She’d survive this, she’d have her family. That meant something.

“Really? Because I think that’s a load of bullsh...” There was a creak in the hallway, “Mags.” He seems to suddenly remember, “I’ll get her home, it’s still early, go back to bed.”

I sigh, "I won’t sleep... Besides, I mean this Finnick. I’ve made up my mind.” He rips through his wardrobe and slides on a loose t-shirt, “So have I.” I don't have time to question his words before he vanishes from the room with one last smile. I can hear him speaking lowly to Mags, the slow movement on the stairs and the front door closing.

I was alone.

Fifty eight days. I’d wasted far more than that in one of my bouts of depression, those times when nothing seemed worth it. Fifty eight days, a week in the Capitol and the games. Dead in less than seventy.

At least that was something I could focus on. Make those days worth it. I’d invite my brother back round, although no doubt after hearing the news he’d arrive as soon as he could. Not that his work would be at all co-operative. After Luka he had had as rough a time as us all, he was lucky he still has his job, the captain had really stuck her neck our for him to tell it. He may already be on his way.

I would have to look into other tributes as well. I could name most surviving I felt, but then only a few it seemed I knew at all. Most had never been to the Capitol each year I had, they were lucky.

I didn’t realise how much time had passed until I head the soft click of his front door and lay myself back down, as if I had done what he said rather than obsessing over numbers and possibilities.

He comes straight up, kicking off his sandals and climbing in beside me, leaving that respectful amount of space. That just cemented that he was unaware how closely he had held me during the night. I didn’t say anything, keeping my eyes on the large painting adorning his wall. I was building up for something meaningful, some way to get through to him. To make him see that this was how things have to go, this was the only viable option

“Finnick.”

“Yeah?” He sounds a little tired again. I detest his ease. My nerves falter, “Do you even know the girl in that picture?” I feel him, his body heat flickering, breath appearing on my shoulder as he examined it. “No. I’ve never really thought about it. I think it was supposed to be someone in the Capitol. Whoever gifted it to me never left a name.”

“I didn’t realise it was from there.”

“One of the only gifts I’ve ever actually liked. I just, I dunno, I like how she looked.”

It was only really her back you could see, with a hint of profile showing plump lips, her long blonde hair falling in the kind of unform half curls I could never achieve with mine. The sun glinted across her, forming a crown. Whoever she was supposed to be, whichever Capitol citizen she was based on was beautiful.

“I wonder who it’s supposed to be.” He makes a movement as if to shrug, “I don’t suppose that really matters too much.”

“I guess not.” My lips and mouth feel dry again, “Is Mags alright?”

“As if last night had never happened. I think she wants us over for food at some point.” I nodded. "And I don’t want really want her by herself.” I repeat the movement, I knew I had a point in my argument. He would never be able to bear Mags being in the arena, watching anything happen to her would destroy him. I wanted to bring that up, but any change in what we were discussing was welcome.

“Well, I won’t be eating at home for a while so that sounds lovely.” It took him a second to catch on and just as easily our whole conversation shifted tone.

“You and Rita will make up.” I spin, flat on my back so he is hovering almost over me.“Did you hear it?”

“Not really, just shouting.” He pouts, “What did she say?” His brow furrowing. I try desperately to avoid meeting his eyes, regretting mentioning it as the argument ring in my ears.

“Am I selfish and self-absorbed?” He laughs at me for a moment before he must see the look spread over my face and shook his head instantly, “You’re planning on volunteering yourself to go back to the one place we all have nightmares about. How’s that for selfish?” His hand dances around my face again, laying my hair out like tendrils of seaweed across his lush pillow as his voice suddenly gains conviction, “Although that won’t happen.”

“Don’t.” I mutter, pushing his hand away and lifting my head up, the hair falling back behind me. “I...” I glare out of the window, feeling tears prick at my eyes for the umpteenth time, “I think if I had handled it all better Luka wouldn’t have done what he did, and he’d be alive.”

“Is that what Rita said?” His voice is cold in an instant, so unlike him, and his eyes locked onto the bandage wrapped around my forearm. He hadn't asked about that although I had been expecting him to.

“No,” I lie, although she basically had, “I was just thinking...”

“Well don’t. Clearly it isn’t helping.” He smiles at me gently, as if it was funny.

“Stop it.” I said, my anger at him igniting, “Stop just...stop making stupid comments and jokes about it!” He leans away from me looking hurt, and a minute passes before he speaks. “I don’t know how else to deal with it.”

I am still too irritated to pity that confession; “You're Finnick Odair.” I say breezily, dripping with sarcasm, “You can deal with anything.”

“Not quite.” I don’t try to decipher his words or his tone. I just lay back down, shuffling into his chest, his arm hesitant as it wraps me up again. Another few moments pass before he clears his throat, “Tomorrow, we’re going to start training. Eating right, all of that.”

“Why?” The words a snuffle

“One third and one fifth remember?” I feel my jaw jut painfully but keep myself silent. I let it drop. I want to enjoy him for the day, and for fifty-seven more.  
___  
He hadn't lied about the training aspect. Each morning he met me early and on the rare occasions I had managed to sleep in he woke me. We ran, we practised with nets, spears and equipment 'borrowed’ from factories and Thom's crew. Finnick had kept his prized trident, still probably the most expensive gift ever to be given during the games. The ability at which he manoeuvred it through the air was terrifying.

If for any reason he was unlucky enough to be selected he had a good chance. Not only did he have his own talent, he had the Capitols affection, what had been a curse for a decade could save him in there. Gifts keep you alive.

I felt more confident as days passed, even as my muscles creaked and ached. I was having nightmares less often, too tired to think about much before I passed out each night. The food was certainly helping; I had never eaten much as it was; picked at food rather than eaten square meals but now we even did that together most days, protein packed. I still found time to eat with Rita and the girls, the uneasy truce we had entered into meant we never mentioned the argument.

Thom and his family had visited, at first red with a rage I tried desperately to put out. I couldn’t lose him like Luka, couldn’t survive that. His anger was simmering continuously, and he shot across tips whenever he could think of them. His work, as I had assumed were harder on him than ever after our brothers ‘incident’ as it was known, as if the truth was too far-fetched and treacherous in itself. He came when he could, weekends, sometimes with Phillus and his children, sometimes not. If not we spoke every evening on the phone. It's the most regular contact we've had in years.

We kept going.

If I had been fifteen again and had this knowledge I would have felt far more able, I would have gone about securing my survival in a very different way. But this wasn’t children and I wasn’t fifteen anymore. I was twenty and I was facing people who had all killed before, who understood some of what to expect.

It was lucky now, looking at it, how many had let the stress and trauma of the games ruin them. Without Finnick and Mags that would be me. That certainly lowered the number of Victors who posed a real threat. I felt sick with guilt whenever a thought like that struck me. There were still those who could prove deadly, anyone really from District One or Two, and about a third would still be physically able to murder me if it came to it.

Of course with all of this we were neglecting some of the other survival skills needed, the ability to make fires, hunt animals, decipher what berries and plants wouldn’t leave you dying, with cramps deep in your stomach. Mags pointed that out one day, about three weeks into our new regime.

They were thankful breaks, those elements and over her many years as a mentor she had gathered books, scrawled her own as her arthritis grew. The Capitol was even somewhat useful, recapping every winner to build more excitement towards the Quell.

The tapes gave a clearer list of who was the danger if nothing else got to you first.

It was on the twenty ninth day of this new lifestyle that something truly clicked, we were watching Johanna from Seven, a bitter cold woman not even a year older than myself who had won the year after I had. She had played a very different strategy than I had, she came across as weak, barely memorable until she was in the arena and then she went off by herself, found an axe and killed almost half the tributes there alone. She was barbaric. “She’s also the only female victor for Seven.” Finnick replied to my thoughts, “So she’ll be in there and you can imagine just how happy she’ll be about that.”

“Well, she won’t be able to play the same game as before. Everyone knows what she’s capable off and she’s never gotten any less vicious.” Finnick and Johanna were on that odd border of friendship, and she spoke to him often each summer. I’d hardly said a word to her, she seemed to be of the opinion that my relationship with Seneca meant I was little more than a cockroach.

“Everyone will have to change their play." He commented "Well, other than One, Two and Twelve obviously.”

“Well, that depends on who goes in with Katniss, though I imagine if Haymitch gets called that...” I’d said it simply, just stating facts until the epiphany was suddenly so obvious it rang in my ears. Finnick noticed my silence and I felt him looking at me. “She’s the only female tribute for Twelve, isn’t she?” He nodded as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “They wouldn’t have this Quarter Quell without her, would they? They couldn’t have done Victors without a female from Twelve.”

“Probably not.” I felt he was deliberately missing the point.

“But people love the Victors, well most do, most Victors- but it would be stupid for them to have pulled this before, even if there was a full set.”

“Elle...”

“This is for her. Because of her isn’t it?” My brain clicked, “They’ve done this because of what she’s started, this is their way to kill her off without it being obvious.” I laughed, it was so amazingly simple and ridiculous, “And this way they put us all down, show that Victors aren’t special, that they can do whatever they want with no effects. This proves how powerful the Capitol is.”

There was an odd look smeared across his features, “This really shuts down any chance of a rebellion doesn’t it?” I bit my lip, staring straight at him. He’d been lounging on the chair, a bag of rapidly melting ice lay across his swollen ankle. With being so busy, finally having ways to occupy my mind I’d half-forgotten my fear of what he was keeping from me. And his revelation about the girl he had long since forgotten about had distracted me.

“But, you already know that don’t you?” His moment of silence was an answer in itself, “Wait, no, you knew that.” My head was spinning, “Finn,” It seemed unspeakable that he should have said nothing. “Did you know what the Quell would be?”

He shook his head instantly, “I knew something would be happening with her in the Capitol. I didn’t know it would involve us all going in the arena until it was already announced.”

“How?”

“The same way I find out everything else.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” I was met with a look that on a normal day, if I still quivered at any hint of anger would have floored me, “I thought it would be the end of the problem and that would be that.”

“That would be that.” I mocked mercifully. Swallowing venom, “Well,” I lifted my voice, “What do we do about this information then?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t change anything. We still need to be ready for the games in case either of our names are called out.” His eyes were daring me to make my usual declaration of self-sacrifice.

“I’m not buying that. You had to know the second the Quell was announced that the plan was different, Snow was going about it a different way. It just...” I scrambled for a memory, grasping to it, “Seneca was making a big deal about how much planning has to go into a Quell.”

“You think they changed it to kill her.” A true statement.

“Yeah. I really doubt he would have been that excited to talk to me about it if it was this.” A flash of distaste curled his lip. “I mean, they know right? The way he was talking they had to know and they have years of Quells and Game scenarios planned.”

He shrugged at me, trying to lower his defensive stance. He knew far more than he was letting on. “So this friend of yours...” I paused, pouting and trying to stop my words from sounding tense and resentful, “What else did they say?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” I drew my knees up under my chest, tilting my head. “Something else is happening isn’t it?” He denied it again but the lie was written across his lips. I narrowed my eyes, looking for anything I may have missed. “Right, so someone writes or whatever to you, to tell you something you already know as if it’s a favour and that’s it? You would have sussed the reason for the rules straight away, I’m annoyed it’s taken me this long to get it. But that would be a waste of a letter, and also dangerous. We’re not supposed to have any contact with outside Districts.”

“The Capitol doesn’t count as a District.” He bit back.

“No, it doesn’t. And in the Capitol there are no rules like that because there was no risk of a rebellion, was there?” I scrambled a little, “Is there?” He shook his head easily at me. That part I believed. “But then only higher ranking people would even manage to get a letter to you and they wouldn’t waste it...”

“I feel like you’re dancing around a point here Elle.” I wasn’t dancing around anything, I was trying to understand, to put these little puzzle pieces together. He was lying, someone high up had written to him, no rebellion in the Capitol but problems in other Districts. Katniss Everdeen.

I placed my legs flat against the thick carpet, ensuring I held his eyes. “What have you gotten mixed into?”

“Again, nothing.”

“Nothing like you owe someone a visit?” He flinched and an ounce of me felt disgusting, “Or nothing like the nothing my brother died for?” He didn’t answer. “I’ll take that as the second one.” Still nothing. I drop my cruel jests when it looks like he’s about to speak but instead, he stands, flicking up the volume on the hologram before he sits on the ground directly in front of me.

“You’re not going to drop this are you?” There’s a nerve flitting above one eye and my annoyance pulses with it. I shake my head hard. His breath is a sigh, those creases around his eye and across his forehead appearing again. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Know what?!”

“Elle, stop, please.” He takes several deep breaths. “I didn’t want you to know because you knowing puts you in danger.” I want to tell him we’re all in danger, all the time, especially now. I want to tell him that since I’ll be dead in just over a month it hardly matters. I tell him nothing, I just absorb what he has to say with what I imagine was a dead stare. I wait until he has finished to speak.

“So she needs to win.” That was the easiest way to sum everything he had confided in me up. “She needs to win and somehow escape the arena to District Thirteen to start a proper uprising.” He nods. I laugh, oddly, that manic giggle. “There isn’t a District Thirteen though, they obliterated it.”

“So they want us to think. I don’t know what’s there but it’s something and they’re ready to move against the Capitol. What happened here has happened in other Districts, I don’t know where but it has. This is the turning point.” He was growing excited now, he believed in this, my own throat tight with doubt.

“So, keep Katniss alive, on side. Break out of the arena and raise an army in District Thirteen?”

“Pretty much.”

“And how do we break out of the arena?”

“Stop with the we, you know...”

“Stop with the one third bullshit. I’ve told you. At least now I know what I’m doing.”

“Elenia.”

“Finnick.” I return, watching his huff a little, holding back his own annoyance. “Who else knows? Anyone here?” He shakes his head, “How high up does it go?”

“I’m not sure. High enough.”

“Game Maker high?”

“Perhaps.” That was a resounding yes. “The point is to act like nobody knows and neither do we. Just do what needs to be done. We just do the Games as usual, with a couple of changes.” He half smirks.

“Now who’s using the magical we?” I tease before I feel my face drop. “No, you’re not...are you?”

“Let’s just see what bits of paper Naloh pulls from those bowls.” He’s the one dancing around the subject now.

“And I bet your name is scribbled across all five of them.” I accuse and he doesn’t deny it.

“Wonderful.” I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, “You are such a hypocrite.”


	9. Oblivious

We didn't speak for over a week. I'd pressed for more information, trying to swallow back the anger and betrayal crashing through me in waves. He would have kept it all from me; his own intentions of entering that arena. He wouldn't have told me anything.

A real conspiracy. A real plan to cause a rebellion, an uprising. Why had he kept that from me? My own brother had died for the same cause.

His argument to that had been how naive my brother was, how reckless their meetings and their plans. This was Panem wide, this had a real chance, a shot. I almost hated that what he was saying made sense, although so many details were left clouded in mist.

It was the first time I could recall ever losing my temper with him, feeling that anger boil over into shouting. When I stormed home I was glad he didn't follow me. As much as the idea of a real uprising excited me over the growing days I was hurt, and more importantly, I was scared. We could end up exactly how Luka had. Our families and others would suffer.

By the end of our period of silence, I'd realised a hard truth. It was worth it, dying for; worth trying. If Katniss Everdeen had to make it out of the arena for our country to survive, to end the terror of Snow it would be worth losing my life. I just couldn't stand the thought of Finnick meeting the same fate.

I went over to Finnick's that night, and slowly as the tension passed and all talk of rebellion stopped we returned to our new tiresome routine.  
_______________________

Although I was unsure how a distant cousin had come across a sling-shot I was thankful for it when my aim improved and I was managing to provide us with the occasional poultry dinner.

I was still counting down the days and we were into the last fortnight. I felt less nervous, maybe it was because I had worried so long it didn’t feel real, like we were doing all this work and that was that.

It was the end goal I ignored. Tried desperately to rake from my mind.

I had tried to bring up his outrageous scheme more than once but I was under the impression that it simply wasn't safe to talk. I was certain now that my house was bugged, and for a week afterwards I was convinced that we would have been heard upon his original revelation and each time I heard a distant noise it was peacekeepers, marching to kill us, tear us to the Capitol and perform the horrible tortures I had heard rumours of. I was jumpy and barely slept, slowly that fear had ebbed away. Or perhaps it had simply joined the ball of nervous energy permanently knotting my stomach.

"I'd always wondered what it was like to be a true Career." Finnick said grimly, rubbing lotion into a large graze on his shin. I shot him a guilty smile as I bent over my stove, checking the roasting seagull again. "Is Mags due over?"

“Andromeda is having her, she offered earlier.” He explained; that had all been dealt with as well. I’d gone over to Andromeda's house; feeling bad I had left it so long and telling her about my intentions. She burst into relieved tears, hugging me so tightly I feared I’d break a rib. Her family was forever in my debt she told me between sobs.

Finnick may not have believed she would have done the same in the opposite situation but I didn’t care. For that day I felt like it was totally worth it all.

“That’s nice of her.” I commented, taking a step back from the oven and fanning myself. It was particularly hot, summer came fast and lasted long so it had been sweltering. I liked that about the basement where we trained with our weapons, it was always a good few degrees cooler than above ground. More importantly it was hidden from the still high number of peacekeepers that patrolled particularly close to our homes.

“I can’t stay too late.” I told him suddenly, boiling the vegetables, “Thom got here earlier and I still haven’t seen him.”

We seemed to all be ignoring the obvious, viewing it as a pleasant, typical family visit. Not my last few days with them all before I was possibly gone forever. Possibly wasn’t the right chance, there was one winner and I already knew who it had to be. Katniss Everdeen had to leave the arena, and she would have to do it alive. Best case scenario she would somehow be escaping to District Thirteen, still a somewhat laughable thought.

A shiver ran through me and a poisonous thought sunk into my mind.

Surely a rebellion could be encouraged without her? It didn’t have to be her, if anyone saw the same aim they could be that person; that leader. Someone like Johanna would be the perfect person to lead a revolt. Peeta even, he was the one who had kept them alive since their stunt with the berries, watching interviews that was clear. In fact, before that, Peeta had played his feelings out in his first meeting with Ceaser, had made Katniss seemed likeable, his emotions had caused Haymitch to think up his ‘brilliant’ scheme to get the tributes to team up, to start what had originally been a lie about two winners.

I was guilty there though, I had let myself be talked into persuading Seneca. If one of them had just died, if Katniss or Cato had come out alone none of this would be happening. My brother would be alive; I wouldn’t be preparing to go back into the Games.

We would still be sending children off to die, ruled under Snows oppressive thumb. This way was better, I told myself that several times a day to make it ring true. Besides, it was too late now; we had no option but to try. We would have to try and keep Katniss alive, to get on her side, to ally with her.

I glanced back at Finnick quickly, still tending to his leg. Katniss was one thing. I would do anything and everything to keep Finnick alive. I couldn’t bear the thought; couldn’t stand it on my conscience.

Rita was right when she said I was selfish.

“You haven’t spaced out like that for a while.” I blinked back and spun, shrugging as I realised but not as embarassee as normal. “Normally too tired or busy I guess.”

“It feels weirdly good, doesn’t it? To be doing something?” I reminded him with more force than necessary what we were preparing for, ending with my usual apology that he just didn’t seem to hear anymore. He stood, could he really expect, when it came to it, for me to allow someone to kill him?

I’d try and kill her before I let that happen, just out of instinct, loyalty.

That was how it would appear, he was my closest friend, my ally. My own mentor who had guided me, as little as I had followed his advice in the end, and kept me alive. The Capitol loved relationships like that. That was how it would appear if I was careful, but that wasn’t the whole truth, I knew that.

He was my closest friend and more. Not at first, I’d barely liked him when I’d first really been in his presence. Thom hadn’t been a fan at school since the two had attended at the same time. Finnick was twenty and already he had the reputation he still held; at that point I didn’t know the truth of it. I was saw him how he must come across to other Districts, to people less in the know – some pretty boy who was far too easy to get. I’d assumed he’d be arrogant, vain, unlikeable.

Now I was so very glad to have been proven wrong.

And I was all but in love with him. That was the sickening, sad truth of it. Seneca had numbed that I knew; had been a distraction that at points, more than I would admit, I wanted and enjoyed. It felt traitorous to admit that. Not love, not anything close, but I had liked Seneca Crane, there had been emotions there. It was nothing compared to how Finnick made me feel, and now with time running out the fire that flourished my skin whenever he touched me grew hotter. He had always been touchy, little motions that him likely meant nothing set me aflame. I tried to push the thoughts down, the emotions away, I prayed they were hidden well enough. They were unfair and they were making nothing easier.

The feelings had been there for a long time. Now they were just bursting to the forefront at what was really the worst possible time. Leading up to our imminent deaths.

I still felt sickeningly comforted sometimes that he was going in there with me. I was a mass of contradictions.

“Smells good.” I bit my lip, trying to stay in the present, to not let my thoughts pull me in deeply as they used to.

“Gotta have a talent.” I warped my voice into one similar to the Capitol's high pitched curl, wincing at it afterwards as he chuckled, limping over and resting his chin on my shoulder, his fingers oh so lightly resting over my hip bones. I wanted nothing more in that moment than for him to slide them downwards but I broke it, stepping aside to grab some herbs and offering him a hopefully charming smile that probably came across as pained.

He didn’t seem to get the point, leaning as close to me as possible on the counter as he hopped up smoothly, popping some ridiculously expensive sweets into his mouth.

I didn’t know if he knew how he made me feel. Sometimes I felt like he was playing it up, seeing how far and uncomfortable he could make me just for his own entertainment. But that was cruel, completely unlike him. In between training I still cherished moments of normality, when we could just joke, when the lingering threat of the Quell could be ignored. Was the touching increasing in volume as I'd been thinking or was I just picking up on everything more now?

“These are good, want one?” I pulled a face, but nodded and held out my hand. He ignored it, leaning in a little and pressing the sweet past my slightly open lips, the citrus flavour burst instantly, as did the colour on my cheeks.

He was definitely teasing me and I was falling for it hook, line and sinker.

I pretended to check the bird, allowing my hair to fall in that comfortable curtain over my face and hide me from those probing eyes. I swallow before I talk, “Quit being annoying and sit back down, it’s nearly done.” He popped his lips but did as I said, fiddling with the cutlery. He started the familiar talk of the next day, what we should do, what we should approach.

“We’ll only do a couple of hours anyway; you’ll want to see Thom.”

“We can sort out fitting it all in.” I promised, Finnick had become my daily routine.

“It’s still a shame we can’t get our hands on a bow and some arrows.” He complained this had become a common gripe. We couldn’t simply go around asking; by all accounts, even with how obvious it must be, we weren’t allowed to be practising or training for the games.

“Either way, you don’t have enough time to get up to her standard. I have to guess from last year that they’re what she will go for.” I started placing the food onto the dishes, “And she’s lethal with it no doubt.”

“Looks like it.” He was still so un-bothered as if his upcoming death didn’t freak him out. I wish I could cling to that speck of hope that he had, his idea that everything would work out.

He was far braver than me, every night it still came, a tingle would start at the bottom of my spine as I tried not to imagine it, not the pain, that was irrelevant, but the nothingness, the eternal darkness. No thoughts, no nothing. The tingle would always turn into a shiver, climb up my back and coat me until I would have to tell myself to stop thinking, to try and bring anything else into my the forefront of my mind.

A lot of the time I would have to get up for a couple of minutes, distract myself before I could even debate trying to sleep again. Not even the exhaustion could save me now.

It still happened when he was there, but to less of a degree. Feeling him beside me, or even the dip in the mattress when he lay on the other end of the bed was enough to make me stop the feeling from hitting me hard. It was almost every night that we slept together now; an unspoken agreement that I felt I benefited far greater from. I was clinging to him, he was my rock and I was some pathetic little limpet. I didn’t like thinking like that, and I knew he would detest the words but the thoughts plagued me often.

I let him chatter on through dinner, although the topics switched often they barely touched on the future or anything serious. My own food remained little touched and he lifted a brow but made no comment when I declared myself done and scraped the leftovers into the bin. I sat, sipping water until he was finished and let him go to walk me out. I tugged on my trainers, sat on the bottom of his steps; we were still in training gear and my forehead still felt tight with dried sweat.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow.” I assured him, slipping my laces down either side of the shoe, “Alright, don’t put yourself out though. Spend time with your brother.” I nodded, not ruining the illusion he was trying to put across. He’d spend the day with Mags to avoid feeling lonely, I knew that sense of isolation got to him sometimes. His sister was trying to pretend it all wasn't happening and didn't seem to have any immediate plans to visit. They weren't close, Finnick believed that she blamed him for their parents' death, even if she didn't know the circumstances. I'd met her once, she was as eye-catching as her sibling but with none of his warmth.

“Right, well,” I stood, somehow catching my foot on the step, slipping but managing not to hit the ground, thanks in a large part to his quick reflexes. “Sorry. I honestly think this amount of exercise is killing me.” He laughed, although his hands didn’t move, one still digging into my hip the other on my shoulder.

I’m oblivious as to who makes the first move but seconds later our lips are connected and I’m kissing him with as much fervour as he is me.


	10. Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the kiss.  
> Elenia and Thom have an unfortunate conversation

I’d imagined the moment more times than I could count. That perfect kiss that made the world stop spinning, made those fireworks light in your stomach and burst into a colourful delight in your mouth.

His hands had moved upwards onto my cheeks when he released me. I was still at a loss as to which of us had leant in, who had initiated it. It didn’t matter, his lips parted slightly and I knew instantly that it had been a mistake, a regret either way. “Shit.” I tore my eyes downwards, “S…sorry, that wasn’t, sorry…”

“Elle.” Only now did he drop his hands, the bloom of my cheeks replacing the warmth his skin held. I didn’t want to hear it, the apology, and the assurance of nothing that would make his words knives. “Sorry, I didn’t…” His smile was small.

It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, it was supposed to be perfect, the right time, right setting. Not with us both covered in a dried layer of sweat, the balls of my feet aching, the taste of dinner still lingering in my mouth. I refused still to meet his eyes, standing lamely.

I cleared my throat; he repeated my name again, moved to catch me but finally my body and my brain connected, made sense and I twisted away from him, feeling cruel tears stinging my eyes. “I better go,” I spluttered, “Go see Thom and…” His arm was still outwards but he didn’t cling at me, he let me go and I did, closing the door a little too heavily behind me.

The air was warm, even as the evening hit and I took a couple of breaths little better than gasps to try and flood myself with oxygen. It had to make sense. I must have kissed him first, I just couldn’t place him, see that moment. My heart was still racing and I pressed myself onwards, he’d be listening for footsteps. I paused for another second, rubbed my hand across my lips.

There was no way he wanted me. All I was doing was damaging our friendship that we’d only just really seemed to have repaired. He didn’t want this, me. He was just being friendly, his usual touchy self. I must have taken it wrong.

I head straight back to mine, pausing before I opened the door, able to hear the children playing inside.

Only now was I able to appreciate the way his lips had felt and mine tingled. I resisted touching them again, it would have been pathetic, like a girl in a terrible romance novel written by some untouched Capitol citizen. I opened the door with more pressure than usual; wincing as the handle on the other side bounced off the wall. Instantly attracting attention my way, Thom was in front of me in a split second. “You look gross.”

“You don’t look much better.” I countered, managing a smile as he hugged me tightly, so hard my feet lifted a little of the ground. “Careful Thom, don't break her.” Phillus joked, although the words made him drop me, the silence awkward and instantaneous, “I didn’t mean...”

“We know,” I hugged her more carefully; it was easy to ignore, to keep it as a dream of future that would never get here. She let me go, easily sensing that Thom wanted to speak to me. I couldn’t right now; not with everything else in my head so I searched quickly for excuses, latching to the most obvious one. “Lemme go shower real quick and I’ll be back down. Did you eat?”

“Rita did us something.” Thom was looking at me oddly. We hadn’t seen each other in close to a fortnight. He’d been to see Mom, I knew that much. He hadn't mentioned a lot but it clearly had not gone at all well. Luka was her eldest, her first boy, her favorite. “Great, I’ll be about twenty minutes, anything else you want help yourselves.”

“We brought some oranges actually, found a place selling them near Mom's.” I almost laughed at the pained look that flickered over his face, “But yeah, sorry, go clean up.” I took my leave and darted upstairs, finally letting go of the breath I’d half been holding. Thom had looked strained, tired. I was not looking forward to having the conversation I knew was coming; that he deserved.

I didn’t spend anywhere near as long under the hot stream as I wanted, enjoying the delicious scents that stuck to my skin and hair. I grabbed a razor, ensuring my body was smooth.

Why? I wasn’t sure. A part of me slipped into a world of fantasy that Finnick actually wanted me in that way. That hadn’t lasted long, reality as it always did was suffocating. We were running out of time. Like that the shiver hit me again and I turned the water up hotter for a burst to force it away. It worked somewhat and I clambered out after a few long minutes, slipping into my bedroom and dressing quickly, wiping at my face hard. The time spent outside in the sun had brought my freckles out again, the sprinkling over my nose and cheeks, I wiped at them as I brushed my teeth.

I wrapped the towel tightly around my head after viciously assaulting my hair, making sure my legs, bare again in shorts were dry before I went back downstairs. I was going to have to be careful with my words; they had no idea I wanted to volunteer. Rita couldn’t have said anything although my sisters-in-law were close. Thom would have jumped right down my throat if the idea had even entered his mind. He would want to discuss odds, logical options. I let him lead me outside, sitting heavily on the bottom step. I let my toes press into the sandy grass.

“So, you’re still training right?” I nodded at him, reluctant to give over all the details he demanded. He let me ramble for a few minutes, although all I could think of was Finnick and the way his lips had moved, his hands dancing up my neck. I almost missed his next question. “What if it ended up as the two of you in there?”

“What do you mean?” I practically coughed up my response. That was an assurance, even if Finnick still urged me almost daily to reconsider my idea. “You’d ally with him, right? Of course, you would I mean…” His own words sped up, “And what if you two were...”

“You know who could be going in there…” I stopped myself from my usual melodramatic wail, he looked too hopefully, too concerned for me to lay that harsh truth on him, as aware of the possibilities as he was. He looked so much older than the last time I had seen him, although he was the same age as Finnick, their birthdays only days apart. Was I hurting him how I had hurt Luka? The thoughts clearly ran through his head, his eyes crinkled. I knew we were in dangerous territory, it would be better to just power through and say everything that needed saying.

“If I...” I chewed the inside of my cheek, seeing how his hand tensed, there was no point hiding it. “Die,” I end lamely, “The house won’t be mine anymore and the money will stop.”

“I can see how your finances would worry you.” He said sarcastically, a little too harshly.

“I mean Rita won’t be able to live here with the girls.” I answer just as curtly, “She’ll have to live somewhere else. I’ve got a lot of money I’ve stored up in that safe under my bed. The day of the reaping, before we go I want you to take it all, make sure Rita gets sorted out, okay? I can’t guarantee they won’t empty the house or anything when I’m gone.”

“No-one cares about the money.” His voice hurt me.

“I just want everyone to be more comfort-“

“Comfortable? You want us to be more comfortable because you’re dead?! That would be the least of...the last thing I would think of Elenia I.."

“And your first should be making sure our family is safe.”

“But I can’t do that, can I? We let Luka get mixed up with those uneducated morons, and I can’t stop whatever result comes out on Monday! And...” He stomps his foot, “You wouldn’t be doing all this training if you weren’t committed, weren’t sure. You look and sound the healthiest you have in years.”

He was too close, the accusation dead on. I spiralled to shift the conversation back hating when a burst of emotion overcame me, “Neither of us can blame ourselves for Luka, it isn’t… I’ve done it and it fucking hurts. When I die I need to know all of you will be safe.”

“When?” He half yells, slamming his hand over his face to quiet himself as if not to disturb the neighbours. “I knew it!” he hisses, “I knew you’d be so stupid as too...”

I shushed him, Finnick’s warning of listening ears popping back into my head. “Come on.”

I stood, not waiting for him as I marched towards the natural pool and past it, finding the overgrown path that leads just onto the beach. No-one could be listening here surely, we were alone and the wind as the tide began to creep out had to cover us. Even so I lowered my voice.

“I am not arguing about that anymore. I’ve done it enough with Finnick and I am sick of it.” Steel coated my brothers’ features and he ran his head through his growing hair. “Please,” I begged, “Please do not argue with me, Thom. It’s happening, either way, but I can’t go in any sort of right mind without knowing that you all are going to be okay.” I had him there and he nodded regretfully, his eyes scouring across the horizon, “It will be best if you all lay low as well, there…”

I felt my tongue dart over my top teeth, looking in the direction I knew my home lay. I could see the lights over the peak of white cliff.

I scan around again, lowering my voice further so he has to lean in, “Something is happening. I don’t know what properly but there’s something bigger going on.” His brow creases, “It’s to do with what Luka wanted, what he died for. I can’t… I can’t have anything I may do affect you, put you and your children in more harm than they already are. You have to lay low, take the money and…”

I could see the conflict fighting within him, it was the same one that had plagued me for days, weeks. But I knew exactly what was happening with it all. I had it under control, I told him that.

“We’re not in control of anything. If it was up to me...”

“Well it isn’t.” I bit back; apologising instantly. “This is happening and I need…”

“It could be.” He’d lost me.

“What could be?”

“If we could have control.” I lifted a brow but he’d moved, drawing up his sleeve awkwardly so it exposed the inside of his upper arm. I had to squint in the weak light but there was a tattoo, tiny but I recognised it instantly. “What the hell is that?” I felt blood flow from my face. Fighting through my stammer, “W…W…Why have you gotten that? Do you know what will happen if the Peacekeepers see that?!”

“Yeah, I do.” His face lit up with rebellion, defiance, a gleam in his eyes that twisted my stomach. “I know, there are a lot of people who feel the same as I do, this is the symbol. She is, isn’t she? That’s what this is all about?”

“Luka died because of this.” I had to swallow hard, “This is the stupidest…”

“Yet you’re clearly hiding something.” He snapped, “You think seeing my brother die didn’t increase my resolve? You think them sending, against every rule there is, my little sister back off to die in their sick...” I put my hand over his mouth this time and he wrenched it down, looking at the long line on one arm, my remaining pink scar from my latest breakdown.

“They make us watch it every year, they killed my older brother, our brother and they’re going to kill you.” Tears were rolling down his high cheekbones, “I am not going to do nothing, not anymore. This is organised, this isn’t just angry words like Luka, it’s more than that.”

“You to keep them safe, and Mom. Promise me you won’t do anything that will get any of you hurt.” It was obvious if he said those words they meant nothing, he had gone too far. The normally calm face of my brother was gone, this mask of anger and insolence had overcome him.

“Can you promise me you’ll come back a second time?” His eyes were weary.

“Don’t do that to me Thom, this isn’t my choice!” I could feel my voice growing frantic, the thought of losing him, of losing everyone was unbearable, “Don’t you dare do anything while I’m in there.”

“You just pretty much told me you’re planning on dying.”

“I’m not planning on anything, I’m being realistic!” My words were venom.

“Realistic? You spent the last four years of your life in some kind of daze playing house with the head Game maker, don’t suddenly decide to be rational now!” His shoulders dropped, we were both breathing heavily, standing upright. He was towering over me, the tallest of us. For once there was no comfort in it, only intimidation. I took a step back, stretching myself as best as possible and staring him straight up into his face. I had to make him see sense, surely there was some part of him that realised how bad an idea getting involved in anything like this was.

If it failed, if whatever he was planning failed we’d all be gone, my whole family. I tried to make my words a command, “On the day of the reaping, leave straight away, with the money and go somewhere quiet.”

“Everyone knows who I am, if they didn’t already they do after Luka, including all the new peacekeepers.”

“Finnick’s sister lives close to the border...”

“I know where Finnick’s sister lives.” He pursed his lips, “But I can tell you right now there is no way we would get out of the District, no chance in hell.” His arms folded across his chest, “But, then, there is no way I’d leave, not if I can make a difference.”

“Thom.” His name was a plea now, a whisper that rushed out to sea with the breeze. I felt the tears starting to form again. “Please don’t do this.” He turned away from me and I sat heavily on the still damp sand, rubbing at my face. I was at a loss, I wanted to scream, to make him see it my way, the true way. If everything went wrong my mother would have lost all her children; my nieces and nephews their fathers or worse their own lives. He copied my action, drawing his knees up to his chin. He was as stubborn as I was, as Luka had been. Whatever scheme this was must have come from the docks.

“Luka and the others died, and people on the docks still want to try?” A nod is my answer, “Why?”

He takes a minute to gather himself, “You have to know why the Quell is what it is, right?” He waits for a reply he doesn’t receive, “It has to be to kill Katniss, and stop the chance of other victors becoming a threat. You can imagine if Finnick turned around and declared war on the Capitol people would…”

“Not as many as I imagine you think.” I try to stop my words from being hard, “I don’t think there’s that power anymore. People are scared now.”

“People are scared. And so is Snow, that’s obvious, the reason for the Quell is obvious to anyone with half a brain and people are clicking what that means. The Capitol is weak.”

“The Capitol has never been weak.” I scorn, “You’ve never been. I have seen firsthand what sort of provisions they have, medical, defense, weapons, everything. You’re talking like people are just going to storm in there and end it.”

“If all the Districts…” He wants exactly what I’m aiming for, risking my life for but still I scoff. Hearing it come from him makes it clear how unfeasible it is, that this truly is a suicide mission. “Even if they got Snow. It doesn’t mean that someone else won’t rise up and take over.”

“Like I haven’t thought about that.” He laughs sarcastically, rubbing his thumb over his chin, “We could end up like Thirteen.” I keep that truth to myself, maybe the illusion of the loss of that District will come back upon him, convince him otherwise. “So stop,” I snipe.

“I can’t.”

My fight shatters, that tingle is dancing across my body and I rest my face in my hands. The action reminds me now of Finnick, how truly different I felt only an hour ago. “You need to be safe. I can’t deal with any of you getting hurt, please Thom. Please just let it go, let others do whatever it is.” I scuffle on the sand, grabbing his hand. His face softens instantly and the moon catches in his eyes, he sighs heavily, “I can’t promise not to do anything if the opportunity arises.” My temper snaps and I lash out at him, enjoying how he winces and struggles to catch my other hand as I fire curses at him.

“Hey! Stop it Elle, for fuck…right, Elle. Stop.” I retreat like a sulking dog. “We will take the money, okay? I’ll lie lay, all of us will I promise you that. We’ll head up to by Finnick’s sister, right after the ceremony.” I watched his adams apple jerk, “But what if you don’t get selected? Would you have to mentor?”

“Thom.” The word is lost with the rustle of a wave.

“Elenia.” He shakes his head. “I guess we all have secrets now then?”

“It looks like it.”

“And yours means I get to watch you try not to die again. How in any way is that fair?”

“It isn’t.”

We both sit in silence watching as the waves are lost further out, clouds coating the moon for brief periods. I was waiting for him to start again, unable to continue the conversation. Thankfully his words meet a new topic and it’s as if everything we had just revealed to each other was never said. “So you’ve been doing good with the training then yeah?”

I nod at him, “I think so. I feel a lot more confident.”

“Good. Dad would like that you’ve finally got a bit more meat on your bones.” I ignore his clear attempt to stab at nostalgia. “But then in the current circumstances.” 

My smile is small and guilty. “Finnick says he’ll be going in.”

Thom clicks his tongue, telling me that now he’d expect as much.“But who for?”

“What?”

“Is that for you or for her?”

I feel my face crease, “Katniss?”

“Only one girl on fire.” I scowl instead, “He’d never hurt you in a million years.” He’d misread me, “You’re not stupid, you know that.”

“I know.” That is one thing I don’t doubt at all even if he’s currently sent my head spinning. He laughs at me, shoving himself to his feet, “He better not or he’ll have me to answer to.” His weak attempt at humour finally earns a guilty chuckle from me, letting him pull me up.

“I kissed him earlier,” I blurt out, shocking myself a little – anything at all romantic or sexual was strictly on our list of topics we avoided, “Or he kissed me. But I…” How was I supposed to put feelings I couldn’t comprehend into words fit for my brother?

“Honestly.” He cut me off, wiping away the stain of tears across his cheeks and practicing a stiff smile, “You pick your times.”  
__________________________________________________________________________

I waited until my brother was heading up to bed before I left. Nothing we had spoken about by the beach had been mentioned and both Rita and Phillus were too tactful to ask. My hair was finally fully dry and I snuck into my closet where I planned on sleeping for the evening, setting up the small spare bunk I kept for situations like this. My brothers and the kids always got the better rooms, it was only fair.

The thought of approaching Finnick again made my stomach fizzle and I wasted time before heading over, fiddling with my hair until it was in some sort of order and even dabbing some make-up on my face. I wasn’t sure why really, I just wanted to show him I didn’t always look like a sweaty mess. Not that it would, should affect his answer or his feelings. I slipped a thin jacket on and my shoes, avoiding the stair that always creaked and leaving my house. I paused outside his, feeling like I should knock and doing so.

When there was no response I opened the door slowly, waiting for him to appear but only then realising how dark it was. He was upstairs, either asleep or getting ready for it. I regretted coming over but I knew if I didn’t try and sort this now I’d have another sleepless night and the thought of it being awkward between us was horrible. Not speaking for a week had been horrendous, I couldn't manage going through that again. I crept up the stairs, slipping off my shoes and the jacket but waiting outside his bedroom door, the smell of incense present even in the hallway. I knocked again and heard the gruff call to come in.

The room was warm, a little too so. A weak fire was lit providing the only flickering light. He sat upright as if electrocuted, obviously not expecting me. “Hi.” I offered meekly, “I’m sorry.”

“Elle.” He half breathed but I cut him off, feeling myself blurting again.

“Thom has a mockingjay tattoo and he’s involved in something. He’s said he’ll lay low if he can and I told him to go to your sisters after the reaping and take some of my money and er…” I pause for a split second, my brain catches up with my mouth, “Sorry, I should...I should have asked, they can’t just turn up…”

“I’ll talk to her. She’ll be fine with it.” We both nod and he meets my eyes almost cautiously.

“I’m sorry I freaked out earlier.” He pats a spot on the bed beside him and I take it, crossing my legs so I was facing him. He looks like he’s struggling for words, opening and closing his mouth like a fish on a line. It would be adorable if I was sure he wasn’t thinking of the best way to reject me. He stops trying, with his obvious confusion, his hair messy and with those tense lines across his forehead, he looks about as unpreened and human as he gets. “Let’s just forget it okay?” His brow lifts when I speak, “I didn’t mean to make you feel…awkward and…”

“What?” He looks truly lost, and oddly, almost a little hurt. He recovers smoothly, “You didn’t make me feel awkward at all Elle, I’m sorry I obviously overstepped. I crossed a line so…” The last few words wash over me and I’m back to dinner time again trying to view it from an outsiders points, remember the movements, how our lips connected. It’s still a blur but my eyes land his lips again and I want too, so badly.

For once I just react, leaning up on my knees, stretching and catching them with my own for the second time that evening.

It takes a moment for him to respond and by then the stabs of rejection were already starting to tear me apart. They vanish instantly as his lips move, and I finally feel everything you’re supposed to, what earlier had lacked. My body is alight, aflame and I’m aching for him. He pushes forward suddenly, making me rest back on my heels before the kiss grows more hectic, more desperate.

The sheets are a cool relief on my back but also an inconvenience.

They’re tangled around him forming a barrier that he has to rip away, breaking the connection and making me gasp as he easily flips me out of the way. I go to say something more but he cuts me off fiercely, his hands wrenching the sheet to the bottom of his bed before they land on me, grasping my hips before sliding up my side.

I whine into his mouth, propelled further into his body, his hands catching down my back and dragging me as physically close to him as possible. Chests pressed together I wrap my legs around him, scared he’ll change his mind, suddenly toss me away.

Instead, he slams me back down onto the mattress, shock making me giggle as his lips and teeth move downwards to my neck. It’s hard to concentrate on anything else and I miss what he’s saying until he stops. “Lift up.” I catch him rolling his eyes lightly, a smirk on his face, as he raises his head parallel to mine again. It clicks what he’s saying and I let his hands finish what they had started, my shirt landing in a pile on the floor.

His own meets it and I’m melting beneath him, putty in his able hands when that hint of doubt starts to form. The hand tickling up the inside of my thigh pauses, his kisses become pecks and then he pulls away.

He lifts his hand from my leg, rubbing his thumb over my collarbone as if to wipe his previous kisses away, as if to eradicate the act. I don’t need his stumbled apology. The dismissal and rejection was a sting, the poison from it seeping through me.

“Okay.” I manage, swallowing several times to keep my voice strong. “Fine. Can you?” He shoves himself off of me and sits beside me, facing the other way. I’m still burning but now it’s humiliation, any sense of arousal has died and already the lump in my throat is growing.

Of course he didn’t want me, why would he? I’d caught him unaware, he’d let himself get carried away.

Everything was a mistake, him kissing me was, he’d tried to apologise for it, probably to tell me exactly what, how wrong it was. He was lonely, as I was, as we all were. All seemed to be slowly losing our minds. I adjust my bra, sliding off the bed to snatch up my shirt and put it back on, not sure whether I should sit back down.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He sounded years younger. I was stupid to believe he’d want this; with me of all people.

I was his closest friend, I knew that, but there was no way any sane person could look past my various breakdowns, ways of coping with the games. He’d seen me in worse states than anyone else, and he’d helped me through them. He thought of Mags as a mother, I was no doubt the twisted little sister.

I dumped myself back down on the crumpled bed; running my hand through my hair, not caring if it hit him in the face. I didn’t want to speak first, to have to make any sort of move first. We weren't looking at each other.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He said again lamely.

“We both know I’m not a virgin Finnick.” It was a low blow and I spit it at him.

“And you know that isn’t what I meant.” He practically shot the words back at me. The fire flickered again before going out completely, the embers dying. I felt like that was a sign it was a good time to go, to bury myself in humiliation until the sun came back up. “Can I go home?”

“Oh...” I could imagine his tongue darting over his lips, “Of course, I...” I stood still, fighting against the urge to ring my fingers together. I fussed with the bottom of my shirt taking a step closer to him as I went to leave. There was a reason for the movement; I wanted him to catch me more than anything, I wanted him to spin me, kiss me. Tell me there was some way to avoid it all, that we could escape Four, escape Snow and escape the games.

He did catch me, but not with the right words. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let...”

“Let?” In the same way it had those weeks ago with his revelation about the arena my emotions flipped and instead I exploded. “Well I’m so sorry you felt like you had to let me do that.”

“That isn’t what I me-“

I bit my tongue hard, copper filling my mouth as I flung my arms up, storming from the room. He took a second but soon enough his own feet were slamming on the stairs behind me. “Elle, stop it.” I went to grab my shoes but it let him catch up so I chucked them back onto the ground. “For Gods sake Elle, you’re being…”

“Well, please if you don’t mind letting me…” I tore open the front door. “Leave.” His hand met the wooden panels, stopping my escape. He didn’t speak and I took several shaky breaths until my heart stopped thudding just so hard. “You understand just how confusing you’re being right now, right?”

His chuckle was full of sarcasm, “And you’re not.”

“Don’t.” My heart stops instead now, aching. My mouth is dry and leaves me a lie, “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“Are you?” My back is still to him and I don’t make any sort of gesture. “I’m not.”

I want to hear him out but the rejection is still drifting over my skin, stinging like mites. “I’m not playing this.” He lifts his hand from the door as if he was going to touch me and I take the chance, dragging the door open, “Save the games for the arena Finnick.”

He waits until I’m on his top step before he speaks again, “You kissed me too. Why?”

I could list a hundred reasons, but I don't. I try to breathe through my nose since my chest is still heaving pitifully.

“Don’t worry about tomorrow.” I finally answer, my voice quivering pathetically. I don’t even turn to face him now, I’m too much of a coward for that. “I’ll sort myself out.”


	11. Shark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elenia needs to make up with Finnick

The giggles and splashes are the most joyous sounds I’m sure anyone around the Victors Village has heard in weeks. I want to enjoy them, and in short bursts I do, my nieces splashing around delicately. Thom is holding Samos, his tiny fists hitting out at the water as his cousins and older sister flounder around.

“Aunty Elenia.” I tug myself, as always, back into the moment, pushing off the rocks on one side to meet her. “Annie.” She grins, treading water carefully. “What’s up?” She’s the eldest, coming up on eight, not that I’ll be here to see that. In an instant, with that one poisonous thought rattling in my head I’m cold, my arms and legs are lead and I let my feet land on the sandy bottom of the pool, the water darting up to my collarbone.

She doesn’t seem to notice anything, although her words become a blur to me. It’s the unmissable truth, I will not be here to watch any of them grow up. But if I don’t go; if I don’t try what will they grow up into? What will become of our home, of the whole of Panem.

My worst fear up until the announcement of the quarter quell was that it might involve them. If we fail there’s still a high chance of that. They love nothing more than sending in a child related to a previous tribute or victor. It drives the Capitol citizens mad.

“Aunty Elenia.” I move my limbs again, pushing from the ground, “Is Finnick not coming then? Mummy said…”

“He’s busy sweetheart,” I replied, my mouth thick with the lie and the reasoning behind it. She observed me for a moment, head slightly tilted. “Okay.” She popped, ducking under the water and reappearing with a fake roar and a blur of white teeth. “I’m a shark!” Her young sister squealed, paddling less confidently towards the tiny promenade. I watched Rita scold her daughter numbly, the lack of Luka evident more than ever.

Numb, I was just watching the last few days of my life pass. Trying to scramble through the fear to hold something coherent, to enjoy any moment.

Something clicked.

“Where are you going?” Thom called, watching me run a towel over my body, grabbing and wrenching my thin dress down over me. “I…I need to speak to Finnick.” His grin increased and I felt like swearing at him, even as the swarm of butterflies danced through me.

What was I even going to say to Finnick? Sorry would be optimum obviously, I had to apologise for freaking out twice, not hearing him through. I had to try and make him understand what had just made sense in my head. I had to…

Instead I practically head-butted him as his front door swung open. “Sorry.” I breathe, quickly taking a stride backwards and almost catching myself on the low stone steps. “Think I’ll live.” He brushed across his cheek, where wet splattering from my hair lay. “You’re…damp.”

“Yeah,” My voice still sounds breathless, airy, “We were er, swimming.” He nods slowly and I felt like I could practically drown in the awkwardness. “Where are you g…going?”

“Mags.” He said simply, “There’s a little show down at that theatre pit later, I said I’d…” he finishes lamely, “take her…”

“Ah.” Everything I’d been thinking of saying is floating from me. “I was coming to erm, talk if you wanted too, I mean.” My words are coming out too fast and I feel myself getting flustered, “About yesterday and how I acted and I owe you an apology and…” He hasn’t moved; that perfectly blasé look is holding still. There’s that familiar tingling sensation of humiliation biting over me but I try and finish on a somewhat competent sentence. “I am very sorry that I reacted like that. It wasn’t fair.” He ran his tongue over his lip in that intoxicating way.

“Don’t worry about it.” I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting but it certainly hadn’t been such a light-hearted response. I felt my mouth open but slammed it shut. He obviously read my facial expression completely wrong, “I’m not mad Elle honestly.” He beams, smiles at me like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I almost wanted him to be annoyed at me, upset at how I’d acted; it would be more genuine.

“No.” I said simply, finding it difficult to control my temper already, “Sorry, no. I…I want to talk to you, please don’t just brush it off.” The smile waned and fell. He hid the hurt that flashed over his face well but a new wave of guilt flooded my stomach. I’d barely thought about how anything that had happened could have affected Finnick, in fact, I’d been so sure that it wouldn’t have. This was Finnick, he was cool headed, level. I had never even considered that my feelings were at all reciprocated, that had always seemed laughable and just the day before the dark voice in my head had taunted me that he had known all along it was a mistake and I had just been a regretful distraction.

I don’t feel like that now looking at his face. He’s tired, barely looking in my eyes when normally eye contact is something I can’t escape from. “I’m not sure what you want me to say Elle. I thought you wanted your space and I…” His hand rubs over the back of his neck.

He’s hurting too. Through the fog of confusion in my mind, there’s one pinprick which is clear.

Whatever my feelings are, they are not the only ones mixed up with us. Whether he’s hurting because I spoke so harshly to him which is something I have never done before, or whether he feels an ounce of what I do towards him it’s something. It’s more than something.

He kissed me and I reacted terribly and ran away. I kissed him and then he stopped, there could be so many reasons for him stopping us there before it got any further but all I had considered was my own embarrassment. I choke on another apology and he can easily see my distress and invites me in, softly closing the door behind me. My hair is still soaking, and I can feel drops sinking into my dress; droplets form a small puddle on his wooden flooring. For once he looks as lost for words as I am, he looks despondent and that’s my fault

“I’m really sorry.” I hardly breathe the words but he glances at me before returning his gaze to the opposite wall. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Don’t do that. I do. I acted like a complete…” I can’t think of an appropriate word and gesture, “I am sorry for freaking out…twice and I am really sorry for not letting you speak and being just….horrible.”

“You still sorry you kissed me?” He leaves a long pause before he speaks and I recall the cruel way I’d spat the words at him last night.

“Are you still not sorry it happened?” He chuckles lowly, although there’s no humour in it and rubs his hand over his cheek, still avoiding my eye line. “That depends very much on how this conversation goes.” The look on his face makes my chest ache.

“W..What does that mean?”

I know exactly what he means and he speaks practically the same words. “We’ve got eleven days until the reaping. We’ll just pretend none of this happened and we can...”

I cut him off, “I don’t want to pretend none of it happened. We do that all the time and you’re right. We’ve only got days at home.” I can tell he wants to interrupt and launch into another ‘let someone else go’ speech but I don’t give him the chance.

“I’m not sorry I kissed you. You asked why I did it and I did it because I’ve wanted to do it for ages and I just…” I suck in one cheek and this time I’m the one looking away as his eyes land on me. “I’m sorry you stopped and I don’t know why you did but I just assumed that you’d got carried away or you realised it was a mistake or you didn’t feel like…”

“Feel like what?”

I risk looking at him. “You know.” His lips curve properly this time and instead of the fear I thought I’d feel when I made my feelings clear I want to laugh. There wasn’t the instant look of disapproval I’d always feared and his smile was for me, he wasn’t mocking my admittance. He pushes himself off the wall so he’s in front of me. There’s a stretched moment of silence again and I can feel my heart hammering against my sternum.

When he speaks there’s that rare serious tone in his voice, but also a hint of tentativeness. “Can I kiss you?” It takes a couple of seconds of me gulping like a fish before I force out one singular word, “Yes.” He pushes a wet strand of hair back out of the way and leans in slightly.

“And you promise you won’t run away?” His voice is back to its playful purr and I find mine, my whole body is rigid with anticipation but his teasing makes me laugh a little as I promise not to.

My reward is his lips pressing against mine and his hand grazing down onto my neck.


	12. Flounder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're heading towards the reaping

It would be nice to say we sank into an inevitable bliss once feelings were out in the open. But then nothing in life happened as perfectly as the awful Capitol romance novels Luine adored.

The wooden border decorating his hallway is pressing into the middle of my back, and his lips, still fighting against mine are utterly intoxicating. His free hand was just starting to slide over my ribs and I’m practically quivering with anticipation when there are several loud thumps on the door. “That can’t be Mags.” He groans, reluctantly pulling himself away from me.

“It’s not.” There’s another thump. “It’s my nieces, listen.” He pauses for a moment and then nods.

“I suppose I should let them in before they knock my door down.” His hands untangle from me and I hold back a little groan, already missing the physical contact. “Probably.” He grins, sauntering a couple of metres to open the door and making a big deal as the girls practically launch themselves at him. Not at all surprisingly they dote on Finnick.

“Girls,” I hear Thom before I see him, giving me enough time to rearrange my dress and hope that any flush in my cheeks has settled. “I said your Aunt’s house, not go and pester…” He stops just outside the door, Samos still slung on his hip. The girls are completely ignoring him, updating Finnick on every tiny thing that had happened this morning. Instead, my brother glances at me, his face inquisitive, I roll my eyes and his face lights up for a moment before he instead turns to Finnick, as if he’s never seen him before and he’s scoping him out as a possible threat.

“Really Thom?” I can’t stop myself and find several pairs of eyes piercing as I step forward, fidgeting again with my dress. He smirks, turning back to the children, “Now come on, if we want to catch the show we all need to get washed and dressed.”

“But Finnick’s going to the show too with Miss Tiera you said.” I couldn’t fight a smile, hearing Mags called by her full name was odd. “So, can’t we just go with them? You’ll come too won’t you Aunty Elenia? Uncle Thom said you were probably going to stay here but if we’re [i]all[/i] going…” Three wide smiles greeted me. I pull a face, although Finnick turns and holds his hands in an open gesture, the edges of his own mouth raised.

“Do I have enough time to get ready? I know it’s only a little summer thing but still…” I point to my still dripping hair. “It doesn’t start until half one.” Thom assured me, “You’ve got plenty of time to sort yourself out.” There’s still a hint of a taunt on his lips but I ignore him. “Let’s leave Finnick and go home and get sorted then. Come on you lot.”

They all run off, Thom trailing as Rita and Phillus shepherd them inwards. I twist back to Finnick, “Sorry for crashing yours and Mags' trip.” He waves me off easily.

“It does kind of ruin my plan of hiding from you until all of yesterday blew over.” He leans against the outer shutters of his front window, “I’m real sorry about that.” I say dryly, trying to keep my voice straight. “All forgiven.” He assures me, leaning a little closer and pinching my bottom lip.

“We’re okay, right?” His hesitation is adorable, and I can’t fight back the wide smile that breaks my façade. When I speak I’m sure it’s the most confident I’ve ever been. “Definitely.”  
______________________________________________  
Days slip away far too easily. We grow a little slack with our training but most of the time that barely crosses my mind. The only time that crushing fears build up is still late in the evening when for a couple of minutes at least I’m paralyzed with fear. Finnick helps with those, he murmurs comforting things, his arm pulls me tight into his chest so I can focus on the steadying beat of his heart whilst his other hand traces gentle patterns across my shoulder. The closer we get to the reaping the longer it seems to take to calm me down.

I feel bad for putting him through it, but he constantly brushes off my apologies. I suppose that’s a habit neither of us will break. Sometimes the gentle caresses and words are enough to help me drift off into increasingly fretful bouts of sleeping. Plenty of times they’re not and whilst Finnick gets comfortable enough to doze I find myself wide awake, the number of days burnt into wherever I look. The fear of failure suffocating. I force myself to think about other things, fighting through that imminent future and pressure the fear seems to put on my mind.

Everything leads back to the Arena in some way. I drag up old memories, my father before he died, silly moments from my childhood with the ever reluctant Luka stuck watching Thom and I. It may start with a smile but they always lead back to where we are now. My father dead, my mind rattled, my eldest brother murdered and the other mixing himself up in the same dangerous game we all were.

Thom isn’t dealing well with the countdown either, his face looks more strained each approaching day and I feel so guilty at the effect this is having. The variety of guests that continue to drop in doesn’t help, it's people coming to say what may be a final goodbye. For all they know, we could be watching others board the train to the Capitol but their naivety only makes these short visits more painful.

I’m sick of forcing a smile. I don’t have to do that with Finnick. I’ve never had to, and even if I did he’d see through it in a second.

I push myself up on my elbows, he’s dozing again now and I’ve shuffled away slightly. As well as he hides it there’s panic forming within him as well and he only truly looks relaxed when he’s asleep. He’s brought up letting someone else enter the arena a couple of times over the last few days. I know he and Mags have some scheme. It’s serious because he used Mag’s age as a reason for her entering, as a reason against me doing what had to be done.

It’s the closest we’ve come to an argument since our conversation by his door. I still blush thinking about that and lament the fact that we could have never gotten to this point, I could have ducked out like I normally do and we could still be awkwardly plodding by, me loving him from the sidelines. never actually finding out how he feels.

There’s a big difference between loving someone and being in love with them.

It’s an odd realisation and it’s even odder to have felt that transformation over the last week.

Perhaps it would have been better for things to remain as they were, purely to avoid just how painful the situation will be. I’d raised that to Finnick and gotten a look that I was sure could have killed, why would anyone deny themselves any happiness he had argued. What was coming was coming and it would hurt no less with our feelings pushed deep down and hidden.

I’d kissed him them, to take the hurt look from his face, to show him I didn’t mean it and also just because I could and I absolutely loved it. I did the same those late nights when nothing else worked, sometimes I’d just kiss his lips lightly and he’d wake or sometimes I’d have a little more fun, run my hand lightly down his chest whilst landing gentle pecks down his neck.

He’d always wake up with the same murmur, stretch so his golden skin was taut over his muscles and then I’d completely lose myself to him.  
_________________________________________________________

“Do you know what you’re going to wear?”

“That box in the corner is from Luine.” She stands, heading over and opening the package I’d neglected for close to a month. “There’s loads of bits in here.”

“Luine just sends me whatever. She might have a note on a dress or something but she thinks I wear the stuff she makes pretty much daily.”

“Must keep her busy.” I pull a face behind my sisters-in-law's back. As far as I can remember she’s never actually met Luine. “Not like she has anything else to do,” I say a little more harshly than necessary, ripping the brush hard across my scalp. “Is there a note?”

“Wait a second…” I watch her pull out several large bags no doubt full of ridiculously expensive fabric. “Oh, here we go.” She leaves it folded in half and brings it to me. “Have you heard from her?” I scan over the short few lines, Luine's usual advice. Wear something light, accentuate your eyes, make sure your hair is neat enough and wear heels. There’s a scribble insinuating I wear a certain pair.

“Not allowed contact outside the District still,” I say blankly, although I’m sure if she pushed her luck Luine would be able to call me, but then why would we? We’re not friends, she dresses people ready to die and that's exactly what I am, I just happen to be the person she’s been dressing for longest.

“I’ll pick something in the morning,” I promise, passing Rita the note. “It’s late anyway, you should go to bed.” I know there’s a distinct reason that even with Finnick about there’s been one of the three of them with me all day. They’re scared I’m going to snap again and I know Rita has told my brother about the scar on my arm and how that came to be. “I’m fine, honestly. I’m going over to Finnick’s in a bit, I just wanted to sort out some bits.”

I was putting together particular items that held memories or some significance. I’d piled money into the lavishly decorated wooden box and told Rita and Phillus to take whatever clothes they liked. To their credit, they’d neither looked nor taken any.

The items in the box were all silly little things, old pictures and some belongings of my fathers I had left. Stuff that was meaningful to us but all but worthless on a wider scale. As long as Thom and the others were safe that would be enough, the rest Snow could burn to ash if it suited him. “Are you sure?” I nod again, letting her hug me and watching her retreat from my closet-turned-bedroom. I’ve spent every night at Finnick’s and tonight, my last night in the district will be no different. It probably shouldn't be, but I'm going to struggle and I would rather Finnick hear me than the children.

We’ve been bombarded with people all day, Andromeda came over to thank me again with a gorgeous cake just as a token. She said she could never repay me. I pretended not to see Mags' expression at that point. The whole day had been so busy I was still spinning from it, we’d eaten together, laughed, tried to make the uttermost of it. Even the little ones knew something was wrong now, and Annie had spent the day with a confused look on her face.

It was nearly over now, close to eleven and half an hour since I had practically dragged Thom up to his bed. He’d grown more snappy and twitchy as the day went on and it had been starting to aggravate me. It was wrong, to spend any of this precious time annoyed at my brother but I couldn’t help it. Several deep breaths and I open up one of the large wardrobes, digging through for a bathing suit. I’d agreed to meet Finnick down at the pool, the tide starting to come in now.

We weren’t going to sleep well tonight. I changed, grabbed a towel and slipped on another of Luine’s dresses. Fiddling again in the desk for anything that would be of any comfort to my brother. I found myself opening one drawer I hadn’t touched in months. It was where I had crammed all of the small gifts and bits of jewellery Seneca had given me over the years. They were all beautiful, each worth more than someone would make in a year of hard work. Probably worth more than people in the poorer Districts would make in their whole life.

They were pretty, silly little things like he had wanted me to be.

I closed the drawer again and left my house to meet Finnick.  
______________________________________

He was already in the water, moving with that easy grace he’d always held. I used to joke he was at least half merman and it fit him well.

“Finally escaped them?” I’d not even noticed that he’d fully resurfaced and was wading over to me, my legs dangling on the pier. “Just sent Rita to bed.”

He nods, leaning back so he’s floating. “And are you coming in?” I can’t stop a smile, biting my lip.

I go to push myself in, shrieking as he lunges forward and grabs my ankle, causing me to topple on top of him and into the inky black water. When I resurface, splitting out water he’s holding his nose, voice a little muffled, “You broke my face.”

“Oh give over.” I tease, paddling over to him and pushing my soaking hair back. “Here,” he lets me pull his hand away, “You're fine. Not broken, still as pretty as ever.”

“You may have lost me sponsors.” He is still joking but he’s mentioned something relating to the Quell, we’d promised not to, at least not today. “Sorry.” He’s seen me wince but I shake it off, kissing him quickly and swimming backwards out of his reach. He composes himself and his mistake is pushed to the back of our minds, at least as far back as it can go.

We flounder around for a while, now familiar kisses stolen until he pins me against one of the sandy banks and it grows more passionate. It’s the best way I can think of ending what may well be my last night here. His palms, rougher than my own, hold me upright as I wrap my legs around his hips, keeping my body as close to his as possible. It’s cold, being in the water so late into the evening but my desire for him and the way his hands dance up my sides removes any sense of it.

I am immune to everything but his touch and the delicious sounds he makes as he finally frees me from my bathing suit.  
___________________________________________

I shower again at his house, and he joins me as had become habit. I don’t complain, even with tiredness making me feel heavy. I have a limited amount of time left with him, and I want every moment.

I want to remember the way his eyes darken as they scout over my naked body, I want to feel his chest against my back or admire the way the water turns his blonde hair a light brown and the drops trickle over his lips. He’s as enthusiastic as I am and the next couple of hours are a blur of ecstasy until we finally find ourselves in his bed, the fire still burning softly and my lips swollen.

“You don’t look like Blithe.” He mumbles, close to sleep as I complain. I let the joke go when I realise just how soon I’ll be with my prep team. The fear starts its usual paralyzing route up my body and I try and stop it, tucking myself into Finnick’s side before it can take over.

“G'night.” His weariness is evident and I keep my worries to myself for a change. I wake up several times in the night, dread setting deep in my stomach and horrible images breaking through my dreams. A couple of times Finnick is already awake and he holds me until I stop shaking so violently. He doesn’t ask and I pretend not to see the sweat beading on his forehead which tells me his own nightmares have made an appearance.

We play this mummers false until I wake up once again, fully, with light breaking through the window. His arm is wrapped tightly around me and I have a blissful few seconds until I recall the day. I try to move gently, my throat is so dry it hurts but I end up waking him and he yawns through my apology. I watch the realisation strike him as well and his face tightens.

“Hey.” I offer lamely, manoeuvring to take a gulp of water and passing the glass to him. He drains it and lays back, fingers tracing those familiar patterns under my ribcage. I take the glass from him, leaning over to reach the table and moving back slowly so my breasts brush lightly across his chest. He lets me kiss him, even lets me straddle him but I can tell sex isn’t an option for distraction this morning.

Instead, I rest my cheek on his chest and try to find some relaxation in his breathing. After a few minutes, he interrupts the silence, “Are you showering again before Naloh gets here?” I groan, sitting upright, pretending not to notice the way his eyes linger on how much of me is exposed.

“That depends on how bad my hair is.” I raise my hands to try and rake through it, I grimace, “And it feels bad.”

“It doesn’t look brilliant.” He admits with ease, his thumbs on my thighs.

“Luine told me to make sure my hair looked alright. I’ve got loads of serums at home, I should shower there.” There’s a look on his face I don’t fully catch because it’s gone so quick. “And I mean, Thom’s probably freaking out and…” I don’t want to leave him any time at all but I know I have to. This may be my last day at home with Finnick but it isn’t my last day with him. It is with my brother for all I know.

That tightens my resolve but when I try to get up his grip tightens and moves up to my hip. “Do you have to?”

I’m a little surprised at the childishness of his question and frown. “That’s not fair.”

“Since when is anything?” His face is deadly serious and I bite back my playful reply.

“Finnick, come on.” I go to move again but his grip doesn’t lighten. It takes me a few moments but I realise this is it, this is the most he will allow himself to break down at this stage. This is his version of that paralysing fear which has been haunting me for weeks. I place my hands on his, lifting both pairs gently and pushing forward so I’m essentially pinning him down, his arms over his head. I kiss his forehead, his head still messed up from last night and then his lips. “It’s going to be okay.”

His smile is cynical, “Yeah, you promise?” I ignore the sarcasm.

“Today.” I clarify, “Because we’re doing this a day at a time and today is going to be okay. I promise that and in,” I twist to glance at the clock, “four hours we’ll be on the way.” He sighs, using his superior strength to place me back upright, hitching his own upper body upwards so we’re the same level. He fiddles with one curl that must be particularly unruly and I feel myself blush at the intensity of his gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I furrow my brow, “It’s really hard to talk to you when you pull that face.” I try to ask what he means, already sensing the familiar topic but he cuts me off, “Elenia...” he sighed and I felt my heart drop to my stomach, that tone was never a good sign. “Later on...”

“Don’t,” I command, feeling his hands holding me stuck tight again. “We’re not going through this again Finnick. I have lost count of how many times we’ve had the same stupid conversation.”

“It’s not a stupid conversation.”

“It is, and you’re not changing the outcome of it. Especially not now. Alright?” He huffs, goes to argue but stops himself. “And whatever little thing it is you and Mags have been muttering about can stop.” There’s a hint of surprise but he plays it well, acting dumb. I’m not willing to allow myself to be upset with him so I shake it off, “Do you want me to shower here?”

“In a bit.” He leans forward and catches my lips briefly, I sink into him. The day hits him again when his own are pressing heavy kisses on my breasts and I’m aching with the need for him, a ball of pressure forming. He stops and I whine until I see the pained look in his eyes.

I had been right, today isn’t a day when distractions like this will work.

“Let’s go take that shower.”


	13. Reaped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the reaping arrives

Naloh tutted when he saw the state of me. But by the time I’d smeared on some make-up and done my hair I looked half reasonable and I let Phillus and Rita pick me an outfit. “This is the kind of thing Luine meant right? I know these style of pumps are really…”

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” I breathe, what was popular in the Capitol changed weekly. The most I could do was not completely humiliate Luine. There's a creak in the hall and I look up smiling as my brother enters the room. “You get everything in the car?” That was their way of travelling, we’d purchased it a couple of days ago and Thom had been filling it with their belongings and anything else I had persuaded them to take all morning. “And you’re still going to leave…”

“Right after we’ve seen you.” The answer is robotic, not matching at all with his expression. Naloh complains downstairs again and I can hear people gathering outside by our transport to the Justice Hall. Rita and Phillus leave us, both hugging me gently before they vanish.

“These are interesting.” He crouches down and grabs one high heel in a fluid movement, scrunching up his nose. “You look nice though.”

“Thank you.” He smiles in a way that instantly makes me struggle to breathe, my throat clenches. I can feel the adrenalin pumping through my limbs; that fight or flight impulse. It would be flight that would win if I let it but I can’t and the furthest I let myself run is into my brother, him lurching slightly at the slam of my weight. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need too but his arms are a vice around me and I’m not sure which of us is trembling.

I hear Naloh complaining outside again and remove myself from his grasp. Fluffing up my hair again. “As soon as I head through for the train after our hour, okay?”

“Yup.” He’s looking over my head still. “And we head straight towards Finnick’s sister’s.” He pauses for a moment, “Never mind the girl's school or my job.” I taste blood from where my teeth are pressing hard into my cheek. “I know, I know. I’m…” He bends back down and passes my shoes, stopping me in my apology and letting me lean on him as I slip them on. I don’t fit easily under his chin now but his final hug isn’t as tight. I feel like he’s letting me go physically and metaphorically. I swallow down the lump and try and ignore the prickling in my eyes.

“You don’t have to do this you know. I mean there’s…”

“Oh, so this is your and Finnick’s little plan is it?” He has the grace to look a tiny bit guilty. “Drop it. I’m not doing...just stop it, okay?” It looks like he’s about to stare me down but he falters, awkwardly patting my shoulder again.

“We should go.” He nods, and I check over my appearance in the mirror. I can’t look upset when we’re at the Reaping, I will not look like I’m about to crumble. I’ve never been strong, mentally or physically but I can hold myself together. That’s important, not just for me, but for both of us.

Sponsors can keep you alive, they don’t go for weaklings.

“Ready?” Thom offers me his arm and I slip my hand to his elbow. I nod weakly, “And, we’ll see you in the hour after.” I breathe a reply and let him walk me down the stairs and out under the hot sun.  
______________

I take my place on one side of the stage with Mags and Andromeda. We’re roped off and I watch as Finnick, Tobias and the others do the same opposite us. I wipe the dried spot of blood from my finger; the usual way of signing in. I kept aiming looks at Finnick as the public got into position but whether purposeful or not his eyes strayed nowhere close to me. I can feel my palms sweating heavily, practically slick as I wipe them over the bottom of my dress.

It won’t be long now, Naloh is in position and I can’t stop myself from continuously flickering my sight over to the two bowls, pitifully close to empty. Finally, I catch Finnick gazing the same way but all he can do is shoot me a pained smile before Naloh steps forward and the usual video starts to play on the huge screens behind us. It’s the same video every year, reminding us all how much we owe the Capitol, particularly President Snow. I want the video to last forever and usually, it feels like it but today it seems to flash by and before I know it Naloh is stepping forward, doing his usual call of ‘Ladies first’ and scrambling to snatch one of the three slips in the bowl.

My heart is thundering as his fingers grasp around one piece and bring it upwards. There’s no hesitation with Naloh; he tears open the ribbon and his words are rumbling down the microphone faster than I can comprehend.

“Elenia Volute.” I blink, it’s the only reaction that I can fathom and I force out a slow breath, finally nodding. One of the peacekeepers come over and starts to unclick the rich rope. That uncomfortable silence still lingers over the area but several gasps break though as Mags forces her thin hand into the air.

I feel the yelp in my throat rather than hear it, but it’s an instinct and I clutch her hand, wrenching it back to her side. “Mags.” It’s a growl but I take a step away, some poisonous spark already hissing that I should regret my decision. Finnick’s jaw clenches hard. “I accept my place as tribute..O...Okay?”

Naloh tuts, he hates any sort of dramatics and the rules on volunteering and everything surrounding it are a bit sketchy. As far as I know, no-one has ever turned down someone volunteering to die in their place.

The peacekeeper has no qualm and escorts me a little forcefully to my spot. I can feel myself shaking and link my hands behind my back so it’s a little less obvious. I position myself carefully on the crescent-shaped scar in the wood. The low level of muttering has sunken into that dangerous silence and all I can hear is the sound of my heart pumping hard in my ears.

This was it, there was no chance of going back now.

Naloh huffs and clutches the microphone again, “And for the gentlemen…” I keep my face forward, searching for my brother and thankfully finding him just as Naloh begins to open another slip. He nods at me and it’s enough for me to be able to breathe again. I lift my eyes over him and see my name floating under the number four on one of the screens.

I wait for Naloh to say the name I know must be scrawled on all each of those bits of paper so when it comes it’s no surprise although again there are some unhappy looking people in the crowd. I don’t turn, I watch him on the large screen at the opposite end of the square. You could be calling him from another room, he steps forward, waves easily for the mass of people, and more importantly for the cameras, and practically swans towards me.

I take note and try to make my face more pleasant and less tight. Naloh steps towards me and I take my due, this is the moment where the tributes shake hands but instead, Finnick pulls me into a hug, landing a kiss on the crown of my head. He always had to go a step further but the tension in his body is now evident and I can tell just how mad he is that the final chance he’d set up to save me I had blown.

The smirk on his face falters for a split second but as he releases me the sides of his lips rise easily and I make sure mine do as well, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear and turning my smile towards him. Presenting ourselves as a team is necessary, and at this point expected even if he likely wants nothing more than to throttle me.

Naloh declares our names again, essentially ending the small ceremony but when he steps back there is no applause at all. It’s a sign of respect and I feel my chest swell a little before we’re led offstage by a female peacekeeper.

“Straight on through.”

I deflate again. “What, n…no. We have an hour.”

“New policy.” She speaks a little more softly but it doesn’t stop the panic rising up within me, “Straight to the train.”

“No,” I can hear the edge of hysteria in my words. “I get to see my brother before…”

“No.” Her fingers grip a vice on my arm. “You don’t. Don’t be difficult.”

I try to argue again, the pressure on my lungs is building and I can feel that familiar overwhelming sensation forming. “Elle.” Finnick grabs my free hand and I stop struggling, although my mind doesn’t settle at all.

I deserved the hour, we both did. It was a rule, it had to be a rule. I open my mouth but shut it tightly. Likely I will never see my brother again, my nieces. I blink back the tears fiercely, this has to work. It if doesn’t that is it. They’ll be finding out now, trying to come up and through the side door. They’ll be barred, Thom will realise. He can’t put up too much of a fuss, he can’t do anything stupid with security so tightly wound and so hard.

He won’t. He will do exactly what we discussed and regardless of what happens, he will be safe. I know instantly I will be repeating that to myself a lot over the upcoming days.

Naloh makes me jump as he bundles past us, complaining as usual as the car doors open and we slide in. I’m alone with Finnick.

“Was that your idea or Mags’?” I won’t mention Thom. I have to try and separate it from me, I know that. Leave District Four behind as much as possible. I pull my knees up to try and soothe the stabbing pains in my stomach. “The idea was that you would be going back as a mentor, not like this.”

“And you decided to bombard me all morning like I haven’t been saying for weeks that I want to do this. That I have to do this.”

“Well, congratulations.” He says, voice a little high. “You get your wish, don’t you?” I swallow down harsh words and slam my feet back onto the carpeted floor of the car. Naloh flings himself in with a driver before anything else can be said. He’s not happy which surprises no-one.

“So selfish.” He turns as if somehow this problem is our fault. “Absolutely no-one but Mags is willing to come and mentor you!”

“We don’t need mentors,” Finnick responds, ignoring my scoff at his hypocrisy.

“Well, you have Mags. But how will it go down that I didn’t manage to convince any of the four, the four other male victors to come…” He shakes his head, his personal drama is far more important than we could possibly imagine. “I don’t think victors feel too safe in the Capitol as it stands.”

He lifts a brow but doesn’t reply straight away. “Well, Margery is following us in another car as soon as possible. She wanted to go back to her house and get something apparently.” He waves her away from his thoughts and turns back around in his seat, fiddling with the extravagant watch adorning his thick wrist. “I hope this darling new attitude of yours drops before we reach the Capitol.” He lowers his voice an octave but his words still ring clear in the small car, “I think I preferred it when you barely spoke.”

I feel my face flush but hold back any response, instead sitting motionless as the car moves off and begins down the cobbled road. My nails are digging half circles into my arms until Finnick reaches across and gently pulls the hand closest to his own. He doesn’t say anything and as I glance at him from under my lashes he isn’t looking at me.

He’s upset. I get it. I’m upset that all three of them would try and do this the morning of. I’m not surprised, I wish I was but like I had said to Finnick those few long hours earlier I knew him and Mags had been muttering about something. They wanted me safe, I couldn’t be upset about that although a small part of me is sure it’s just because they all think I can’t do it. That I’ll fail, I’m terrified of that.

I can’t let that happen. I am going to do everything I can to get Katniss and Peeta onside and keep her alive long enough for whatever else needs to happen for her to escape. Finnick squeezes my hand tight but lets it slip from his grasp as we stop and I can see the train waiting like a silver bullet. We exit the car and are met again by several peacekeepers as if they expected us even now to try and run. I bet a few people would try if they had the chance. Mags shuffles over from her car, greeting us on the platform. Her smile is bittersweet, her eyes still slightly narrowed.

She had no right to be angry, I had saved her life.

I sigh and finally, we are allowed in, led one by one by the dazzling white uniforms. “Oh, are we going to have guards on the continuously moving train now as well?” Naloh groans, waving them away and out of the main carriage, it looked the same as every year, the plush couches, and the deep wooden table with ridiculously expensive cutlery.

“Well, since the schedule has already been ruined.” He aims a slight glare at Mags and I make a point to ‘accidentally’ bump into him as I move past, unwillingly accepting a glass of wine, “We’ll be at the Capitol around midnight, perhaps a little later. The Reaping ceremonies are on at eight this evening, so I say we eat around seven and watch them?”

He waits for replies but only receives one from Finnick. “Wonderful,” he took an especially long gulp of the dark liquid. He's struggling to keep himself together.

Naloh nods, looking relieved that one of us was playing along, “Then I suggest we all relax and take some time...” He aims those words at me, “After watching the Reaping we’ll change and prepare for the cameras at the platform before we head to the training centre. It’s all new this year, all been done up especially.”

He grins, clearly excited at this new décor and I grimace behind his back. I feel especially sour towards him, although none of this is really his fault and he’s as insufferable every year. I glance back around the carriage, I want to sink into one of the couches and just wait for us to arrive but I know that isn’t an option. Finnick looks thunderous and I know I have no chance of being able to relax in the slightest.

“I need air.” My words come out strangled but no-one replies and I leave the area, aiming for the small balcony-like exit at the rear of the train. I don’t reach it, I hadn’t noticed but it seems like even the train has had some improvements this year and the final carriage is made completely of glass. They must have thought it would be beautiful, watching the Districts pass so close you could almost reach out and touch nature. They thought wrong. You can hide on a train, and pretend you’re anywhere. You can close the blinds and shut everything else out.

In this carriage you can watch the home you will never see again. I hover for a while, we pass several of the factories that reside on the outskirts of East Harbour, the one main road that I hope my brother is somewhere on. Eventually, I fling myself onto an armchair next to a small palm tree, we’re starting to turn inland and I reach what is likely to be my last sighting of the ocean, the early afternoon sun glinting from the surface. All too quickly it’s gone. Will Finnick have realised he's missed it?

That’s it, we head towards District Ten and I lose sense of where we are within Four. It doesn’t matter really, the odds are so stacked against us. I taste the blood on my lip before I am even aware I’ve been biting it and smear the liquid on my hand as I try to wipe it away. Tears are threatening but I won’t let them fall. I have to be passed that now. I stay in that carriage until it's plunged into darkness, we're in the midst of the tunnel to District Ten. The act of losing District Four sets something off within me and I tear off my shoes, suddenly desperate to wash and change, as if I’m fully letting go.

I need to let go.

I barge past the others, hardly aware of their conversation and into the room I always occupy.

They’re hardly used unless the tributes that year are particularly weepy, Naloh is never sensitive and the journey to the Capitol is usually about eleven hours. The only time I’ve ever used my bed was on my victory tour and I find a laugh when I realise at least there’s no chance I’ll go through that again.

But there are reminders of home everywhere and I need to get rid of them. My dress is one of them.  
I chuck the shoes down and rush to the bathroom, pressing for the settings I prefer on the shower and trying to rip the dress off over my head. I can’t, there are several buttons that do up on the back of my neck and I fumble, trying to claw at them whilst swamped in the material.

I don’t know exactly what sends me over the edge but tangled in the cotton something inside me breaks, the day breaks me and the knowledge of what is coming is shattering. The fabric is catching over my mouth and all too soon I can’t stop myself from sobbing, tangled in the cloth like a deformed ghost.

I’m pulling the skirt of the dress back down, wrenching it over my body and not caring an ounce when I hear a tear. “Hey, careful.” I didn’t hear him come in over the shower running and I dread to think how much he’s heard but he doesn’t act upon it. Instead, he comes over and he’s gently undoing them within seconds. “Thank you.” I can only imagine how red and swollen my face is and my voice sounds scratchy. “Just got a bit stuck.”

“I can see that.” A warm humour is in his voice. Instantly I can tell he’s not angry at me anymore and I’m thankful. His thumb runs over the back of my neck and he pushes some hair so it rests over my shoulder. I lean back into him as his arms wrap around me. “You’re wasting an awful lot of water.” I manage a smile, glad for that simple ability he has to change the subject and keep the topic light. “I guess so.”

His chest is warm and I feel some of the tension finally draining from me. “I’m sor-“

“Me too.” I don’t want to hear it. I can tell he wants to talk about the Reaping, our argument in the car but it isn’t important now, this is done and that’s that. I manage to say that in a much less concise way and my skin tingles at the base of my neck where his lips land.

“It was a very nice dress before you tried to tear it to shreds.” His fingers are fiddling with the hem and I feel a flood of warmth. “We won’t tell Luine.” I mean regarding the dress but the words send his thoughts another way and his hands lift to my hips as I spin to face him. I catch my reflection in the mirror behind him, my eyes are a little red but it’s not the nightmare I’d been expecting. I press myself against him but there’s no desire in his eyes now. “What?”

He kisses me quickly, doesn't let it deepen. “We shouldn’t tell Luine…any of them.”

I can tell he expects me to be offended or to question him, his face softens as if to ease a blow but I agree completely. “I know.” I suck on my lower lip for a moment. “I know you still need to come across how you normally do. We need the sponsors. I get it.” I smile, making sure my teeth show. “And I also know Naloh is one of the biggest gossips in any Capitol social circle so…”

He kisses me again and this time lingers.

It was certainly something I had thought about. If it, we, were to get out to the public it would hurt Finnick’s reputation and that reputation was a huge factor in any gifts he would receive whilst in the arena. “What about at the training centre?” I make myself clearer, “Not during training obviously but I mean in the apartment?”

“I think it will be more of a case of what we can’t say rather than what we can’t do.” I understand that too, and his cautiousness now. Whatever is happening with Katniss Everdeen cannot be mentioned, not at least without being heavily coded.

“Got it.” I’m still keeping my voice light because there’s a hint of a crease between his eyebrows. It takes me a few long seconds but it clicks in my head, his thumb is still rubbing circles on my hip through the thin fabric, it gives me butterflies which drop dead. “They won’t expect you to keep doing that.” I don’t let there be any hint of questioning in my words, it comes out more like a childish demand. “They can’t, you’ll be training all day and prepping and…it wouldn’t be fair.”

“No.” He says the words so slowly and gently his lips barely part. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

The shock is resounding and I almost laugh, I hadn’t even dared think about that option in months. “It won’t.” I try to keep my voice as in control as before. “Everyone knows, however much of it, that Crane is dead and it doesn’t take anyone with half a brain to work out why he ended that way. They won’t. I’m…” I catch his face and look him dead in the eyes, “I’m practically a bad luck charm, it… won’t. Besides no-one else…”

“Crane kept you on a pretty tight leash.” I frown at his choice of words, he doesn’t realise. He laughs at himself although it comes out more like he’s choking. “You didn’t hear the number of comments I have about people wanting their hands all over you.”

“I won’t let them.”

“Even if they threaten Thom?”

I swallow hard and I can feel all the moisture in my mouth vanish again, “They won’t. And no-one even knows where he’s going. He’s as safe as he can be right now.” I’m panting a little when I’m finished, “I won’t Finnick. I wouldn’t let anyone…” I huff, fighting the urge to practically rip my hands through my hair. “You know that. Not with everything…”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” He rambles and I let him comfort me although all he’s done is add another horrifying possibility into the swarm of worries in my mind.


	14. Prep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving at the Capitol and getting ready for the opening ceremony.

We’re arranged, as per Naloh’s desires to watch the Reapings. I wouldn’t have come to dinner if Finnick hadn’t forced me and the food is churning in my stomach. I’m not sure whether I’m thankful or not that he’s made me aware of the requests that may come. At least knowing I won’t be surprised if something is said, it gives me far longer to think of an excuse to avoid it. I have to avoid it, whatever may be threatened.

Mags and Finnick are here, they can’t hurt them. I’ve told myself Thom and the rest of my family are safe about a thousand times in the last few hours but it hasn’t settled me.

Finnick regrets bringing it up. That’s clear as day. Our talk finished uneasily, with promises I knew we would both do as much as possible to keep. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, my mind in meltdown trying to work out what element to be most terrified of.

Mags clumsily pats my shoulder and I smile, curling up tighter around the cushion I’m holding. Finnick and Naloh are chatting about something irrelevant but his hand keeps stroking mine out of sight. “Ah, finally, here we are!” Naloh turns the volume up and we all give the holographic images our full attention. It’s as bad as I could imagine, Cashmere and Gloss are plucked from the large glass bowl and I wait for someone to volunteer. There’s an odd bloodlust with many victors from District One but surely they cannot have the brother and sister in the same games? Fighting together until it becomes too late and they have to turn.

Mags shakes her head but Naloh is on the edge of his seat with an excited sense of glee. “How positively heartbreaking! But so brave of them both.” I want to throw up but I keep myself in my place watching the rest of the District's pass.

Some are no surprise, Brutus from District Two volunteers, Wiress from District Three can barely make it to the stage, she is shaking so pitifully it’s painful to watch.

Naloh makes the odd comment; with the third District, he looks vastly impressed. “Ah, Beetee.” I was almost shocked he knew his name, I was aware of it from reputation alone. “Very, very intelligent,” Naloh muses, speaking over the introduction to our District, “You know how Beetee won his?” No-one responds verbally but I offer a shrug, I have an idea, “He set up a trap, electrocuted and killed a bunch of tributes at once, very smart that one.” If I suspected Naloh had an ounce of humanity I’d think he was hinting but instantly as we all appear on the screen he comments on my poor posture and worries his forehead looked a little wrinkled.

The stiffness that had been building in Finnick’s shoulders drops a little as we watch ourselves get reaped. It looks like true concern on my part and I’m glad I don’t look utterly terrified. Nowhere near as confident or collected as Finnick; no-one would expect any different but he seems glad at how we come across and his arm, sprawled across the back of the couch relaxes.

I recognise every single one whose name is called in some way. There are only fifty-three victors left alive and when I was younger I was able to recite those up until that year. Lower down in schooling we were taught a lot about the games themselves, it was how we had ended up with volunteers every few years and had gotten ourselves lumped in with the other Career Districts.

I suppose I hadn’t helped that, and we’d talked poor Tali the previous year into using a similar strategy.

In some Districts' there are only two or three Victors so there is far less drama; Johanna from District Seven is the only female and she lunges forward, her face dark and hard. She’s a friend of Finnick's, or at least as close to being friends as it seems she allows. As people step forward I try to work out any pattern, are others going into the arena with the same mission as Finnick? Have other people purposefully put their lives on the line? There’s no way I can think of to hint at the chance of this and I can’t spot anything unusual.

Naloh only truly reacts when we reach the final set of Reapings and Katniss, again alone on stage is called. Effie Trinket, now the hottest party ticket in the Capitol, calls Haymitch’s name and I feel all of us in the carriage hold our breath for a moment until Peeta volunteers. “To keep her safe!” Naloh practically swoons, “To try again.”

“No chance of two winners this year.” Finnick reminds him, and even he can’t stop his voice from dripping with scorn. Naloh doesn’t seem to notice, “Oh Effie’s face!” I’m not sure what exactly he is seeing considering he is so happy but that’s the opposite of what is on their escorts face. She looks pained, upset even. The thought of Naloh getting upset over any of us is alien. He excuses himself instantly afterwards, practically floating with excitement into a different part of the train. “Look at her.” Katniss is on the screen as part of the recap, the media doing their best to ensure her and Peeta are the main focus. “Peeta will be a lot easier to get on side.”

“Obviously.” I hadn’t paid much attention to Katniss until it was too late and she’d dropped a hive of tracker-jackers. It was hard not to feel bitter when I remembered the way Tali had screamed and writhed as the venom bored into her. I blink hard to rid myself of the images.

“He’s our way in then,” Finnick says simply, dropping the conversation when Naloh reappears.  
___  
The only difference that’s visible so far in the training centre is the decoration on our floor. Our avox’s are the same and I remember suddenly how much I hate looking at them. I know full well there was nothing I can do but guilt stuck whenever they had to offer me something. I excused myself to bed as soon as we were there, turning down the celebratory champagne.

My room is untouched. I hate that, Seneca preferred to come up here sometimes, it was far more private and there are touches of him over everything. A pair of earrings still sit on the bedside table, there’s a picture he loved on the opposite wall. I don’t want to sleep in here.

I change into some pyjamas, suddenly sweating and sitting down on the edge of the bed, even detesting the gleaming silk cover. I rotate between sitting and wandering around, I turn up the air conditioning until I’m freezing and then I turn it back off. I request water and some sleeping pills but leave the tablets next to the earrings. I end up fiddling with them, able to recall exactly when he had given them to me. It was just after I’d done my best to convince him of Haymitch’s scheme. If I had never done that the blonde boy from District Two probably would have won and none of this would be happening.

I’d barely spoken to Haymitch before but he’d cornered me suddenly, spouting this genius idea of how the Game Makers should try and set up teams, play up the romance between his two tributes and increase interest in a Games where it was starting to wane. He’d always aimed for Katniss. You had too, you had to pick whoever you thought had the best chance. Haymitch had no idea how it would and did end.

I see Tali’s swollen face again and I know I’ve done all the time in here I can. Naloh should be far too intoxicated by now to notice me sneaking into Finnick’s room and I need any sense of comfort I can get from him. Finnick and Mags are the only good things within a thousand miles of here. I’m lucky for that, but the days are sliding away and I can’t stop them.  
___  
I left Finnick’s room before the sun had risen, giving me plenty of time to shower and wait for the swelling of my lips to reside. They still tingled deliciously. I was focusing on those parts of the night when my skin had been on fire and his limbs had been twisted with mine. The alternative was the broken slices of sleep, and my dreams warped into losing Tyger, losing Luka, whilst Enobaria laughed, her teeth glinting until they were all I could see.

I don’t think either of us slept well and I regretted in part not taking the sleeping pills but the rapid knocks on the door catch my attention and I try to shove the previous night into the back of my mind. They all enter in a splash of conflicting colour, instantly attacking the state of my hair, my nails.

My prep team hadn’t changed, not in the five years since the two eldest of them, Blithe and Margy had first exclaimed over the number of split ends I had and my poor posture. Trix was younger and had only been with us since the last Games. She took a chance whilst the other two were setting up to whisper to me how horrid she felt. Her feelings clearly didn’t affect her too much considering the previous year she’d been practically manic with excitement.

I let them keep up a familiar light chatter, telling me about certain parties they had been too, some of the scandalous gossip they had overheard. None of them mentioned Seneca, I’d bet anything that they’d been threatened against that. Was that what Snow intended? We all pretend he had never existed?

Ever so often a hint of caring broke through their superficial nature.

“Both so young and loved.” Blithe whined, “You, and poor Finnick.” Even with the tributes each year I still managed to get stuck with the prep-team often. Several large-scale events happened during the Games, and most of the time Seneca had dragged me along. I was more familiar with each of them then I think I would like. “That would be Finnick,” I corrected, my head heavy with a large amount of product softening it, “being loved.” She waved me off and I could tell she was close to mentioning exactly who she couldn’t because of the way she slammed her overly plumped lips shut.

They took over two hours to prepare me properly for Luine. I'm waxed, plucked, preened and slathered in about five different liquids. I thought I had kept myself in fairly good condition but body hair is criminal and they were so used to having to make every inch of me as appealing as possible I suppose that habit was hard to break.

“You really need to stop biting your nails,” Margy complains, digging into her massive box and pulling out a familiar and foul-smelling polish. It helped to repair the nail and encourage growth, so within an hour or so there would be no evidence of where my teeth had shredded. “This will stop them from cracking in training as well.” She grins, for her this was just another year. Blithe snaps at her, feeling melodramatic and returning to her woeful speech, “And then Katniss and Peeta, engaged but now no wedding!”

“I’m sure that’s the last thing they’re worried about.” They all look a little surprised but within a couple of minutes they’ve shaken it off and normal duty returns. I’m relieved by the time they were ready to go, Blithe and Trix both managing a few words although I would see them before the interviews in a few days, the latter clasping at my hand before they left. Luine emerged from the lift as soon as they had gone, her overpowering perfume twisting my already anxious stomach.

“You can eat first, but nothing heavy that will bloat you. Have Finnick’s team been yet?” I shrug, the boys never took as long, a shave and base of make-up were about all they needed and Finnick was so beautiful touching him up too much was practically a sin.

“Well, hopefully, they won’t be too late.” She muses, delicately eating a thin piece of bread and pate, “I've got two dresses, similar to what Marck has planned but also...” She waves her hand, “We’ll see, and I’m still not sure what to do with your hair.”

“Whatever you think,” I say, just to stop her chatter, watching as Finnick’s team finally arrived, in and out before we had finished. He eventually emerges, smiling, shorts low on his hips as if to spite me. I struggle to keep my eyes off him, as did Luine. “Well, off we go to get changed. Marck should be here soon for you.” She points at him, eyes trailing, making me want to glare at her, “Come on Elenia, let’s stop bothering Finnick.” I grimace on my way past him, he grins widely at my expression. It doesn't hide that he looks tired under the thin layer of foundation.

Luine wastes no time in getting to work, setting my curls until they're large and drift over my shoulders. Make-up came next and although I didn’t see it until after I knew she was going for a very classical look. She’d stopped doing heavy make-up on me, claiming I was better to just let my eyes stand out naturally. I knew it was because certain people had preferred me looking less done up. Even so, she spent a while making my cheekbones catch the light and accentuating my eyes with lashings of mascara and eyeliner.

“Simple. I want everyone to recognise you. We’re not hiding this year.” The statement strikes me as odd but she scolds me for the way my brow furrows and checks my nail colour before nodding, satisfied it matched. She clicks her tongue and I notice a new addition to her teeth, a glittering blue gem on an incisor. “Just the dress and shoes. I have accessories picked out already. But then, actually... “ She slips around me and to my bedside table, scooping up the earrings I’d been playing with the previous evening. A gift from Seneca Crane.

She catches the look on my face. “Never underestimate loyalty.” She wants to say more but purses her dark lips instead and reverts back to her usual airheaded self, “Besides, no-one will know and they’re beautiful.” She slides them into my ears, pushing back my hair so at least one will show. I can’t work out her reasoning. She leaves for a moment and I find my fingers tracing the pearls again. Loyalty to whom?

She’s back before I can ponder further but I’m glad for the distraction. She watches as I strip and place on the nude underwear she shoves at me. I'm numb to being naked in front of her. “You’ve put on weight.” She comments, eyes scouring, “Good.” I take a look at the rail she’s dragged in; seems both outfits show a fair amount of flesh but one seemed to be nothing but a mixture of netting and shells that would leave almost everything bare.

Luine sees my face, “Fine. I was expecting that. Outfit number two then and no arguments.” For once I don’t have any. She helps me shuffle into a long gown, it's a blush colour, embroidered with shells, pearls and flowers. I wasn't going to be a fisherman, I was the ocean itself. She adjusts my cleavage and makes me swirl so that the train drags behind me.

“It’s beautiful Luine.” She beams, helping me slip on her selected shoes and another ring she produces with a diamond twisted in gold.

“Okay. That will certainly do, look!” She pushes me towards the full-length mirror and I have to admire the view. I feel beautiful, which is rare and there’s a flood of confidence. Luine has done well, the perfect mixture of being covered but remaining sexual. There’s a knock on the door, Luine drags her eyes from me with an uncomfortable expression. She is genuinely upset about the turn of events.

“Just coming Marck.” She calls, doing her last second adjustments and opening the door for me. “Make sure you’re careful when you walk, do not catch the train.” I nod, and we meet the others in the living area. Mags in a simple, emerald green dress. The prep team probably visited her briefly but as ever I was their centre of attention. Marck draws Luine away and I try to avoid my eyes lingering on Finnick too long.

He’s pretty much naked, which by now shouldn't be something that phases me. I’m just trying to keep myself from blushing too deeply. “Luine had something like that for me.” I manage. He rolls his eyes before they simply devour me. I can’t fight back a flush and the butterflies in my stomach are for a completely different reason.

It’s hard to stand here, a couple of metres apart when I want nothing more than to run my hands over his bare torso and feel his skin against mine. I lose myself a little in my fantasy, Finnick loves undressing me, he always does it so slowly; cruelly, so his fingertips tickle across me and he can press his lips to the exposed skin as he slips the fabric down. I can practically feel him, he’d start with the bow around my waist, unlooping it so his chest was against my back.

Mags clears her throat loudly and I feel my eyes widen as Luine links her arm with my own. I’m far too hot and simply embarrassed so I let her steer me into the elevator first, snapping at Marck when he almost treads on my dress. She smiles at me, and again I get the sense she knows more than she’s letting on. “Doesn’t she look beautiful Finnick?”

He clears his throat before he answers. He looks uncomfortable which oddly makes me grin. Holds my gaze as he answers. “Devastatingly.”

________________________________________

“You must be about the stupidest person in Panem.” The voice was honey, raised so anyone close would be able to hear her speak. “Seriously,” stilettos click loudly against the granite flooring as she drifted towards me. It was hard to force the frown from my face but I managed it just in time, sure I was giving her a pleasant smile as the sleeve of her gown brushed against my side. “I don’t think any of us are feeling too smart Ca-…”

The sugar drops and her pink lips become a snarl as her hand gropes for mine. Her long fingers are decorated in an abundance of glittering rings. “What the fuck where you thinking? She was going to volunteer for you!” Her words aren’t that soft purr now, instead they’re needles in my ear. I’m a little thrown by the quick change, by the anger in her tone. It feels like concern and that daunts me a little more than anything. I’ve always gotten on fairly well with the Victors from District One, the relationship they had seen between myself and Tyger had secured that.

“Mags wouldn’t stand a chance.” I spit, a coward and a liar.

“Would you?” It’s not Cashmere now, instead, Brutus has strolled over, looking as comfortable as could be, his large arms decorated with swirls of gold. I didn’t offer him a reply, and he didn’t expect one – I was well aware how little of a threat Brutus would hold me as. I was very much hoping to prove him wrong. “She’s here isn’t she?” My defender snaps at him, those sapphire blue eyes narrowing as he saunters past and towards Enobaria who shoots us her own golden grin.

“I’m not surprised he’s here.” I allow, he makes me feel a little nauseous.

Cashmere pulls a face and crosses her thin arms. “He’s an utter moron is what he is. You’ve seen the reapings right? He practically leapt over Ayro to volunteer.” Her distaste for him would not stop them allying. Does she understand she's as big a hypocrite as the rest of us?

“Probably has a fairly good chance.” It’s a statement and a true one. District Two is under the thumb of the Capitol. They have the most volunteers and Victors of all the Districts. She scoffs, but I’m losing her interest and her eyes are straying. I watch them stick very firmly on her brother, she’s the eldest. Gloss is two years younger, another Victor and now another tribute. There’s no chance of a double victory this year.

There will either be one Victor, an example or by some miracle, we will break Katniss out of that damned arena and whatever Finnick’s friend has planned will all work out. I look at Cashmere a little more closely, under the thick layer of make-up she looks exhausted, pale. Could she know something or is it just a fear she’s well adept at hiding? “Gloss is going to win.” I barely hear her, only really aware she’s spoken because I’ve watched her lips move. “I’m sorry – you know what that means and I don’t want to, but I will if it comes to it.”

I open and close my mouth lamely, am I surprised by what she’s said? I’m not even sure, I don’t doubt her conviction, the purpose behind her words. I would do anything to keep my brothers safe. I have done things to keep Thom and the rest of my family safe. Cashmere wouldn't settle for failure as I had. “I understand.” Her name is called and with one last clasp of my hand, she’s gone.

It’s quite loud under the stage, the excited mutter of the crowd with only minutes until they can see their favourite heroes and villains, ready for the slaughter once again. We all know there are certain people that will be getting a much larger share of the yells and cheers.

Katniss and Peeta aren’t down here, or rather, I haven’t seen them yet. People are forming into usual groups, whilst those more out of touch with reality seem to be drifting. Wiress is practically clinging to Beetee, her eyes wide and fearful, one corner of her mouth lifting and dropping rapidly. I suppose I don’t look much better now, standing idly in between two carriages, neither of which Finnick and I will be boarding.

I lost him instantly, as I knew I would. He still very much had a façade to hold up, we’d only agreed yesterday how important that was but even so it stung a little when the usual ‘Capitol expression’ had masked his features the instant the lift doors had revealed us. I couldn’t see him from where I was but he’d be working hard, in his own way. We needed sponsors if we had any chance of achieving such insane aims. Finnick brought in sponsors, but he had to continue to look free, to look as appealing as he always had.

I hated that.

Making myself move I started back towards the carriage bearing the number four, spotting Mags in what looked like a tense conversation with Woof from District Eight. It may have been tense because Woof had had several major strokes several years ago and could barely speak. He made Mags seem coherent in contrast. Cecelia was with them, her body stretching the light blue fabric a little; clearly, she had put on some weight since her last fitting with their stylist. Of course, she had, I scolded myself, she’d had a baby within the last year. I knew that I’d heard something from Finnick.

That made three now, all under five that would grow up without their mother. I had to blink hard several times to ensure the watering of my eyes wasn’t obvious. I could not afford to look weak, not here. Most people probably held a similar view of my capability to Brutus and I was sure they were right but I would not give them evidence. Cecelia would die, I couldn’t even remember how she had won her own games, but it was through no great feat of strength or intelligence otherwise I would know. Cecelia was one of us who just got lucky. It wouldn’t happen again and she wouldn’t have someone like Finnick as an ally. I could suggest it, but I could imagine instantly the look he’d try to hide. He was probably worried he was going to struggle enough to keep me alive, let alone putting anyone else who’d need a lot of help in his hands.

Finnick had to survive this. Regardless of the wider aims, that poisonous thought was always in my mind. Finnick deserved to. I was one with Cashmere in that belief, I’d do what I could to make sure he made it through. My stomach cramps and I was desperate for some water. I steadied myself a little against the closest beam, spots dancing on the edge of my peripheral vision. I was not going to faint, I wasn’t going to allow that.

But this was enormous. It was real, those months of dread were nothing. This was real now, we were in the Capitol, and in seven days we would be in the arena. Seven days to work out what the hell we were doing, what I was doing. To even get some scale of what was going on. This plot went high Finnick had said, but who else here knew? Did Katniss even know? Were there other victors now thinking the same about this impossible task? I bit my tongue hard to stop myself from exclaiming outloud. I’d agreed to die to try. I’d also made my own agreement, my own vow to do what I could for Finnick. That was selfish, selfish and necessary for whatever sanity I had left.

The cold voice that cut through me was almost welcome. It dragged me to the present, made me aware of how my chest was heaving and how soaked my palms were with sweat. I shoved myself upright off the beam, fiddling with my dress to give me a few precious moment to compose myself as much as possible before I dared meet her cruel eyes. “Johanna.” I greeted, taking one last breath before raising my head. “Elenia.” She said, words mocking as ever. “Look at the state of them. Almost makes me glad we’re back in the arena, at least I know we’re not likely to end up some sort of addict like half of them.”

“Only half,” I said slowly, earning a wicked grin.

“Only half.” She agreed, and her eyes darted over me quickly. “Obviously you’re concerned otherwise you and Finnick wouldn’t have been doing whatever you have been.” She stopped me from replying with a roll of the eyes, “That’s illegal you know. Could get you in trouble.”

“More trouble?” I practically shoot the words at her, shocking myself a little. I didn’t talk to Johanna, she threw some filthy look my way whenever she saw me and darted off leaving Finnick to try and lighten the atmosphere. Finnick wasn’t here now and I still felt like I was one step away from a heart attack. She fell silent for a few long seconds, and I was waiting for her to stomp off in her ridiculously high shoes when instead she spoke again, digging a little deeper.

“How far in advance do they know the Quell?”

I could sense where she was going but asked the question she wanted. “I don’t know, why?”

She shrugged a taunt that made my teeth begin to grind. “I just wonder how much Crane knew.” She trailed off, waiting for some reaction. I was adamant I wouldn’t let her have that and struggled to keep my face as still as possible. “What a shame he isn’t here to try and get you out of it.” My throat is thick and I don’t trust my voice, “Don’t worry though, there’s still time for someone to pick you up. Maybe you’ll treat them to a couple of nights before everyone gets slaughtered.” Her thin lips play with a smile.

“Well.” She’s almost left before I can manage to speak, and what I say is despicable. “At least I won’t be stupid enough to say no.” Her whole body tenses, she’s frozen, probably debating exactly how she’s going to break my teeth before some sense of self-control I didn’t know she possessed takes hold. She straightens her back and walks off swiftly. I’m sure I’ve just become number one of her list, although I may have dragged Finnick to a wobbly number two. I wasn’t sure that Johanna was aware I knew that. I wasn’t even sure of the whole story, it was used as a warning. Finnick had told me once, face heavy with regret and on a particularly shaky evening I had spent with Seneca at some ridiculous masquerade at Presidents Snow's mansion it had been said again. The warning far more pointed that time.

If someone desired you, if anyone made it clear to Snow or one of his little associates that they wanted you, and were willing to pay for your ‘company’ you were given a simple choice. You said yes, grinned and bared it or you said no and everyone you cared about was killed.

I don’t know if it was stupidity, naivety or just pure rage that had made Johanna turn down one of richest men in Panem. But she did, and as far as I was aware she lost everyone. I’d just shoved that in her face. No bating deserved that. Several deep breaths made no difference and a loud claxon sounded, five minutes until show time. I want to follow Johanna, I should apologise, more than that, I should grovel. It wouldn’t make any difference and I don’t. I stay very firmly planted where I stand, only letting myself look as the last couple of minutes creep by.

Stylists flutter around touching up their tributes, whilst victors – those brave enough to come back this year as a mentor mingle. Luine will have snagged the best seat possible by this point, she knows well enough that dabbing at me in the last few seconds only ends with the both of us stressing out.

There’s one, in particular, I take note of, Cinna, Katniss’ stylist. The man who made District Twelve interesting exactly a year ago. This means our youngest victors have arrived and this time I do take a few steps, ever nearing the horses ready to pull our carriage. I see Peeta first, quite tall, a little thicker than he was last year, breaching that final step to becoming a man. He’s in all black, a jumpsuit of some kind. No doubt the moment they’re seen by the drooling Capitol citizens they’ll become aflame, stick with their signature. Katniss is harder to see, it takes three groups of people to break up and move on before I catch a glance of her. Pia from District Ten limps slowly towards her carriage, opening up a direct line of sight. It’s not just Katniss I see, of course not.

Finnick’s back is half concealing her, and he’s leaning in close. I can tell even from this distance that her body language is closed off, she looks like she’s clinging to the horse for protection.

I can only imagine what he’s trying and that bubble of jealously rumbles in my gut. He’s stupid to try that way. She won’t fall for it, god knows she comes across as cold enough and her act has never been as good as Peeta’s. She won’t swoon for Finnick’s charms like half the country would.

Myself included.  
_____________

“What was that with Katniss?” I ask as he appears in front of me. He doesn’t answer straight away, instead gesturing I hold out my hand. I do, palm up, and he drops a sugar cube softly onto my skin. A grin is all the answer I’m offered and I push the sugar past my lips as he tosses another up in the air, easily catching it in his open mouth.

The sugar is sickly but it’s better than the sour taste on my tongue. “What was what?” His words are hidden under the final blare of the bell and he hops onto the carriage, offering me a gentle hand I accept. Bending down he straightens the back of my dress once I’m on board, and my skin fizzles as his fingers trail up my spine. I shrug him off, “Coming on a bit strong with her weren’t you?” I’m staring forward but I can see the dimple digging into his cheek as he smirks at me.

“Jealous?” The reality of his question just makes me more aggravated. He’s expecting some sort of sarcastic comment in reply but he certainly doesn’t get it and instead tosses the sugar cubes onto the ground. His hands meet the low barrier in front of us quickly, and his back bends as he sighs, “Don’t be like that Elle.”

“I’m not…” Biting my tongue stops the lie and again his hand links softly around my wrist, thumb rubbing across my knuckles. “It won’t work. Not that like with her.” I don’t add in how horrible it makes me feel to even consider what he could have been saying.

“Think I figured that out.” He smiles again, a real one this time, more sincere than the shark-like grin he plasters on for an audience. “But we need her on side, or at least willing to give us a go.”

“Peeta will be our way in like we said.” I feel his eyes on me and shrug, “He’s nicer.”

“Well, that’s…” There’s a final blare and the roar of the crowd is instantaneous. It’s our time to go. “How are we doing this?” I ask, fiddling quickly with my hair again, already my hands are starting to quiver.

“Like there’s nowhere else we’d rather be.” His voice is a stark contrast to the positivity of his statement. I scoff.


End file.
